


Thanks For The Memories (Even Though They Weren't So Great)

by SarcasmAndMisery



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Abuse, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Librarian Thomas, M/M, Multi, Newt's an Addict, Poly Relationship, Polyamory, Stripper Minho, i'm terrible at tags, listen dudes, mostly angst, pls read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-03-14 17:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 87,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13594476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarcasmAndMisery/pseuds/SarcasmAndMisery
Summary: Newt was a disaster. That's what Alby always said, anyway. He was an alcoholic, addicted to heroin and was living off of his boyfriend's recovery centre for junkies like him. Everything about him was grey and dark and...well, a disaster. What Thomas and Minho saw in him, he'd never know.After that night, the night none of them could remember, Newt was introduced into a new world. A world of colourful apartments, of loving smiles, of polyamory, of booths at strip clubs, of places to belong, of throwing away needles, having his own room, paying rent, making beds, falling in love, painting again, kissing two boys, having a family, of loving his life.How the fuck did that happen?





	1. Uh Oh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! Please check out the notes at the end of this page for a little more information about what this is, trigger warnings and just general stuff I wanted to say. Hope you enjoy!

Newt had woken up in a lot of questionable scenarios before; it wasn’t new for him to wake up from a bender and have to somehow figure out where he was so he could get home. But he’d never woken up naked, next to two naked strangers in someone else’s bed.

Newt was the one to wake up first. He woke up slowly when he felt someone’s fingers messing with his hair. He rolled over, greeting Alby, the guy he usually woke up next to, with a kiss to what felt like a bare torso. He smuggled into the warm body at his side and let his eyes squint before opening completely.

He stopped dead when he realised…that wasn’t Alby.

Yanking the blanket with him, he shot upwards. His leg hit something warm on the other side of him, and his head automatically spun around to see what it was. He was in between two sleeping blokes.

Shit.

Where was he? Who were these guys? Three of them in one bed? What was going on?

He carefully lifted the blanket up, just to make sure he hadn’t just crashed with someone. All he saw were tangled, naked, legs and damp stained sheets. The two strangers were both facing away from him, so he couldn’t see their faces, but they both had brown, messy hair. That was all he knew of these two.

Guilt, panic and dread made an overwhelming knot in his stomach. Alby was going to fucking kill him.

He rolled onto his side, towards the one who’d been playing with his hair, and gently shook his shoulder to wake him. He had to find out exactly where he was, when the next bus home was, how all of this happened.

He earned a low groan as the man rolled over, the man he now realised was a brunet and looked slightly older than Newt would have expected; maybe twenty-four, twenty-five, and buried his face in Newt’s upper thigh. “Babe, ten more minutes then I’m all yours.”

“Kay. I’m having a sex dream about Christina Aguilera anyway,” mumbled the other bloke sleepily, from nowhere.

The other guy snorted, “Minho, honey, you’re gay.”

Newt turned to look at the ‘Minho’ person, pausing, noting that he was Asian, then shook him instead. There wasn’t any response for a moment, then he rolled onto his back and let his eyes open slowly. “What?”

Newt scowled. “Good morning,” he whispered.

The Asian tensed, his eyes opened immediately and he stared up at Newt with wide eyes. He didn’t say anything as he raised his head to analyse the situation, then hurried to push himself to sit up. He reached out to slap the brunet’s arm, staring right at Newt, slightly panicked.

“Thomas, wake up.”

“Gimme five minutes, Minho.”

“Thomas, _ja gi_ , I mean it, wake up.”

The brunet, or ‘Thomas’ sniffed, rubbed his eyes sleepily, then wrapped his arm around Newt’s thighs, which made the blond twitch. “C’mon, babe, we’ve got time.”

Newt was suddenly aware of how painfully naked they all were – this Thomas bloke’s arm was dangerously close to his crotch, and he couldn’t help squirming quietly as his grip tightened. He shuffled awkwardly, trying to move, but the brunet’s sleepy grip was too tight. The ‘Minho’ man didn’t seem to know what to do. He tried his best, bless him; with a pink face, he pulled the brunet shank off of the blond and shook him harder, waking him properly.

He looked up, blinked at Minho, then finally registered the stranger in what Newt could only guess was their bed. His eyebrows furrowed as he sat up, analysing the blond with piercing eyes and a suspicious look on his face. Newt, who didn’t know what to do, sunk into the mattress slightly and stared at the two of them.

“Any chance one of you can tell me how to get home?” He asked awkwardly. “I need to get back to my boyfriend.”

The Asian’s eyebrow twitched. “I’m going to guess you only have one boyfriend, right?”

What did that mean? Newt nodded silently, glancing at the brunet to see what he thought of this announcement.

He seemed like he was panicking in his head. A question hovered on his lips for a moment before he managed to get it out. “Um, how old are you?”

Newt kinda got their panic now. He had the worst case of the baby-face south of the day-care on 25th. Under the right light, he could look fourteen or fifteen. “I’m twenty-one.”

Newt felt Minho’s breath of relief tickle the back of his neck, as he breathed out something in another language.

“Thank god,” he let out, and Newt turned to him. “I mean, we’re not creeps, it’s just- you look really young, and it scared the shit out of me that maybe we’d drunkenly-”

‘Thomas’ reached out his hand, stopping Minho’s rambling. “I’m Thomas Murphy, this is my fiancé Minho Park.”

Wait, fiancé? Was newt a homewrecker now?

Minho read his mind. “Don’t worry, _yobo_ , you haven’t just ruined our marriage. We’re in an open relationship, we do this kinda stuff all the time.”

Newt frowned. He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. “An open relationship?”

“Yeah,” Thomas replied, with a small smile. “It’s like a normal relationship except we’re not exclusive to each other. Like Minho’s got a boyfriend named Ben, I have two girlfriends, Teresa and Brenda.”

“So…” Newt was trying to make sense of that in his head, but all he could think about was Alby. Alby was going to kill him, open relationship or not. “A fancy word for cheating?”

Minho’s face dropped, and Newt looked to Thomas to see his eyes narrow. “No. Everyone knows about it. Ben knows Minho and I are getting married and he’s super okay with that, and I’m okay with Ben and Minho dating. It’s not cheating, it’s consensual.”

Newt’s face scrunched up without him telling it to. Whatever, this was their weird lifestyle, he had to get back to Alby. “Alright. Can I use your bathroom?”

Minho pointed to a door in the bedroom – ooh, an en-suite. Fancy. – while Thomas said, “Sure,” and moved out of the way for Newt to get past him.

Newt winced. He was buck naked, and his clothes were scattered all over the floor where he could not reach without revealing all to these strangers. He moved to push himself to the end of the bed but realised too quickly that his next move would mean his ass was bared to the men behind him. He glanced back, to Thomas, because he got the feeling he’d catch on quicker than Minho, who was already half out of the sheets like nakedness wasn’t something he worried much about.

Thomas gasped, his eyes shooting to Minho. “Why don’t Minho and I get you some breakfast in the kitchen?”

Newt gave Thomas a grateful smile as he carefully stood himself up, not letting the sheets drop past his hips until he’d gotten some underwear from his bedside drawer, and thrown a pair at Minho. Thomas stood, smiling kindly at Newt as Minho stood, baring all, before pulling the clothing up his legs.

Newt kept his eyes down until the door shut tight behind Minho, and he could finally grab whatever clothes he could find and get to the bathroom.

Ignoring the conversing in the next room, he slowly pushed himself up and searched for his shirt. He saw it, a light blue pile of cloth on the floor near the radiator in the far corner of the room. When he picked it up, there was a clattering noise from inside it, and Newt bit his lip. He pushed his arms through his rolled-up sleeves, then stood up; he didn’t bother buttoning the shirt since apparently, the shirt had been ripped open the night before, which had pulled a few of the buttons off. It must have been a button falling out of it that made the clatter. He scanned the floor for his pants, wincing at the sight of open condom wrappers on the floor and used up condoms themselves. Eventually, he found his jeans thrown on a chair next to a desk in the corner of the room and picked them up while he searched for his boxers. He found those on the bed, under the corner of the sheets that had come loose. He threw them on messily, repeating the step with his pants, then he lost things to do with himself.

He needed the bathroom. Or he at least needed to rinse his face.

There were three doors in the room. One was the door Minho and Thomas had disappeared into, another was a walk-in wardrobe. The other was the en-suite bathroom, which he didn’t hesitate to lock himself in.

He stared at himself in the mirror. Crap, he was a mess. His greasy hair was all over the place, his face and stomach sticky with sweat…and probably other things he couldn’t bring himself to think about. He had marks all over him – hickeys, mainly, as well as one almost bruised handprint on his hip. He didn’t want to imagine how any of it got there, he didn’t want to think about how he was supposed to explain it to Alby, he didn’t want to wonder how he was supposed to cover it up.

He dropped himself onto the sink’s counter and buried his face in his palms, groaning loudly. What was he bloody thinking? Getting drunk? Cheating on Alby? With two guys? Who apparently were already in a relationship?

Bloody idiot.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted into his palms. He was going to lose Alby. How could he do this to him? After everything he’d done for him?

And Alby had done so much for him. He’d helped Newt with his addiction, agreed to pay the fees for the rehab centre when his parents stopped supporting him, he’d helped him emotionally. Alby was the reason he wasn’t still living on the street, sharing needles with other homeless junkies.

And how did Newt repay him?

Relapsing.

“D’you think it was good?”

Newt looked up, his breath hitched subconsciously. These strangers were back in their room, only a few feet away from where he was standing.

“Min, he has a boyfriend.”

“So? That doesn’t automatically make him bad in bed, does it?”

“Shush, baby, he can probably hear you.”

“Don’t tell Ben I slept with another blond. He’s always trying to tell me I have a type.”

“Ha, you so do!”

Newt gulped and shuffled away from the door. He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave the bathroom, a safe haven.

“Did you catch his name?” Minho, Newt thought, whispered.

“I don’t think he told us,” Thomas replied.

“Uh, guy?”

Newt knew that was the call for him to leave the bathroom, announce he was leaving, then peg it to the closest bus stop, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave the safety of behind the locked door. He needed some time to think, a few moments to gather himself.

After some deliberation, he realised he’d have to leave eventually and sneaked towards the door to unlock it. He opened it slowly, watching eyes dart to him, then stepped out to see both men, thankfully fully clothed, staring at him with mixed emotions in their eyes.

Minho gasped when Newt pushed the door closed with his foot. Thomas turned to look at him, and Newt could swear Minho mouthed “ribs”.

Newt looked down, suddenly self-conscious of the body his heroin addiction had moulded into an ugly skeleton protruding out of pale skin, bruised in some places from his general frail stature, plus the dark red hickeys dotted along him. It must not have been so obvious how unhealthy his body looked to Minho and Thomas while he was lying down.

“Hi,” he said after a short moment of silence – he decided he should be the one to speak first. “My name’s Newt, by the way. Look, I, um…”

Thomas’s eyebrow raised, expectant, so despite his desire not to, he continued. “I must have been pretty bloody drunk last night to end up doing this.”

The half-joke fell flat when Minho took a few steps forward to reach where Thomas was standing, placing his hand on the small of his back. Newt laughed awkwardly, he only noticed he’d been shuffling backwards nervously when the back of his heel hit the wall. He looked down at his feet, gulping, then he decided he had to break this intimidating silence.

“Look, I really don’t know what happened last night. It must be completely crazy to wake up to find out you’ve just shared the most intimate thing you can do with each other with a complete stranger, and I have no idea what that’s like, but it must be horrible and I’m really sorry. Last night I broke my sober streak, I wasn’t thinking and I don’t know how any of this happened but it was probably all my fault and I really do feel awful.”

Thomas glanced at Minho before the Asian took a small step forward, shaking his head, grinning. “Newt, we told you. We’re in an open relationship, waking up with you in our bed is fine. What matters is you and your boyfriend, what are you going to tell him?”

The bitter reminder made Newt want the world to crack open and let him fall through. He closed his eyes, letting out a sigh as he leant against the wall. “Fucking hell. I don’t know.”

There was quiet for a moment, before Thomas spoke up. “Hey, Newt, look. That’s none of our business. Let’s get you some less destroyed clothes, and we’ll take it from there, huh?”

Newt didn’t say anything, standing anxiously next to the bathroom door in case he needed somewhere to get changed in. Minho walked over to a set of drawers in the corner of the room, pulled the middle one open and rummaged through it. “D’you need fresh undies?”

Was that a joke? Newt wasn’t sure. He didn’t answer anyway, trying to avoid Thomas’s gaze. He didn’t like the idea that these guys just did this stuff. That wasn’t what love was to Newt, being with someone else was wrong to Newt.

“Um…” Newt began, forcing himself to look at Thomas, who gave him a questioning look. “Do you remember anything about last night? I mean, I was at an art exhibit opening, and I must have drunk too much champagne. I don’t…I don’t remember anything else.”

Thomas looked behind him, at Minho, and forced a friendly smile. “You must have come into the Scorch, the club on 24th. We were there last night, it’s where Minho works. He’s the choreographer.”

Newt shrugged, he’d never heard of that club. But the art museum was on 20th, so maybe he took a drunken stroll.

He glanced at Minho, who smiled as he pulled a t-shirt out of the drawer and walked over to test it on Newt’s torso. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Unless we met you on the way home. That’s possible,” Minho explained, not even asking before he pulled Newt’s shirt off of his shoulders and pulled the new, yellow shirt over his neck. It swallowed him a little, but it would work.

Newt pushed his arms into the shirt sleeves, analysing the print on the front. It was a t-shirt for some charity for gay kids they must have done something for at some point. Wow, so these guys actually had their lives together.

He looked up at the two of them, chewing his lip nervously. He was a depressed ex-homeless junkie boy who lived off of his boyfriend, standing in the home of two soon-to-be-wed men who did things for charities and probably helped out homeless junkies like ridiculously composed people always did.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Newt, what’s wrong?” Minho chuckled, but there was something serious about his laugh. Newt stepped back, or tried to, because the wall was in the way, and looked at the floor.

“I, um, I really should get home,” he said, confident and sure of himself, because he felt so unwelcome here. Like he was a humble peasant in a palace. He didn’t deserve to be here.

Thomas furrowed his eyebrows, but Minho didn’t have the same insight into Newt’s emotions. “Sure, where do you live, I’ll give you a ride?”

They even had a car. What did they see in him last night?

“Um- It’s, um, it’s my boyfriend’s place. Twenty-three on fourth,” he said, not quite wanting to outright mention that he lived in the slums, in a rehab house.

Minho smiled. “Cool.” He obviously had no idea. “Have you got everything?”

Newt glanced around the room, searching the place for anything he vaguely recognised. “I think so.”

“To the car!” Minho exclaimed with a grin, heading to the door to the rest of the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I didn't want to overflow the top notes, so here are just some things I wanted to say to explain a few things either before or after you read the first chapter.  
> So, this is a fic about Newt being a drug addict. I'm trying to stay away from graphic depictions of him using or anything that might make anyone sensitive to drug use uncomfortable. Obviously, since that's a big part of the story, I can't avoid it forever and there will most likely be things that might be triggering to certain groups of people. Please keep that in mind as you go forward.  
> Relationship abuse is another trigger warning to keep in mind. I'll post trigger warnings in the notes at the beginning of every chapter, but I wanted to preface the fic with this, because it starts quite early and I wanted people who needed to know, to know.  
> A few things that should also be mentioned that aren't really spoilers but some people don't like these topics so Thomas and Minho are in a polyamorous relationship (Thomas and Minho are dating, Minho's also with Ben, and Thomas, Teresa and Brenda are in a three-way relationship) and Minho is a stripper, and so are Brenda and Teresa.  
> Okay, anyway. I hope you like this fic. It's the first multi-chapter one I've posted, so I hope people like it. :)


	2. What Kind Of Bloke?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings (mild spoilers):  
> -Violence/Abuse

Newt had been trying to think of a good way to say it as Minho drove, Thomas sitting in the front seat next to him. He’d been trying to phrase it right, trying to let them know Minho was not going to be pulling up to a lavish house with a plentiful garden and colourful walls. But he couldn’t get it right, too caught up in the anxiety he felt for when Minho and Thomas would see where he lived, that he wasn’t like them. He lived in a rehab house for addicts who wanted to stop being addicted, on the corner of a street filled with people who took drugs for fun and shot people over money. Newt knew that his lifestyle was not one people strove for, but they'd just left an apartment with a walk-in wardrobe and an en-suite in the same room. If he could choose anyone to show his home off to, it would not be Thomas and Minho. But it was what had fallen into his lap. Well, it was what he’d injected into his veins. But that was a technicality.

What he wouldn’t give for some dope right now. Or a drink. It was always moments like this that made him want to relapse. When he was stressed out and thinking about drugs and alcohol. But he knew he could resist it. Alby had helped him out of his need to use.

Minho was humming along to the quiet radio jingle as he drove, his thumb tapping to the beat on the steering wheel. Newt watched him silently, curiosity making him lean forward slightly, to better hear the radio. What kind of bloke knew radio jingles by heart?

Thomas noticed him listening in, as the voice of a chirpy man announced how 'the summer sun's coming out, grab your sunglasses and beach towels!', and smiled at him. "You're British, right? Do you like the sun much?"

Newt looked up at him, deeming that a dumb question at first, but when he saw that Thomas was smirking, trying to make a joke, he forced a small laugh. "Gee, Tommy, as a British introverted vampire, I really can't say I do."

Thomas chuckled, sending a smile Minho's way, although the Asian was focused on the road.

"I feel like we're being rude," Minho said after a moment of silence. "Would you let us take you out for breakfast or something? It's the least we can do since now you're in this cheating dilemma."

Breakfast sounded great - he would already be too late to get a plate of Frypan's mulch, plus he didn't really want to have to face Alby just yet.

But he couldn't. He had to get it over with, for the sake of his own mental health. Any more putting it off and he'd give himself a panic attack.

"Thanks, but I should get back," he said, avoiding Minho's gaze. "Alby's probably worried about me."

Minho nodded, with a sigh.

Newt settled back into his seat, listening to the quiet song on the radio, anxiously waiting for them to pull up on his street.

It took five minutes, then the car began to slow.

“Is this the right place?” Minho asked, his eyebrows furrowed as he turned into Alby’s street, looking around like he was expecting that he'd taken a wrong turn.

Newt looked at his hands, nodding shamefully. Thomas was looking at him, he could feel it, but he did not want to know what face he was making.

Minho drove to the end of the street, stopping outside Alby’s place, staring at the house with a serious look. No one said anything, and Newt was trying to move his mouth, or his legs, or his arms, or anything. But he couldn’t, trying to sound out words in his head.

"We're here, Newtie," Minho said, forcing a smile that became genuine when he twisted himself around to face Newt as best he could with his seatbelt still around his torso. Newt gazed at the house in front of him, gulping nervously.

"Changed your mind about breakfast?" Thomas asked when Newt didn't make any move to get out of the car. Newt peaked over at him, then dropped his gaze to his hands on his lap.

"No, I..." he began, then stopped himself. He was being dumb. "It was nice meeting you blokes."

Thomas and Minho looked at each other, then back at Newt, with soft smiles. Minho spoke. "You too, Newt."

Newt swallowed again. He still wasn't moving. He knew he should feel awkward, overstaying his welcome in a stranger's car. But they were smiling at him, being kind to him. Being patient.

Thomas reached out and touched his knee softly. "Hey. Do you want us to come in with you?"

Newt's head shot up to look at him. "No. Definitely not."

He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and swung open the car door. "Bye."

The two in the front seats gave each other apprehensive looks, but Newt climbed out of the backseat and forced a twitchy smile before he shut the door. No way was he giving these kind,  _normal_ gentlemen any type of glimpse into his fucked up situation.

Once out of the car, Newt began to relax. He took a deep breath in, sucking the fresh air in deeply. It smelt like cigarettes, but that was about as fresh as this neighbourhood got.

He heard a door open, and looked up, watching Alby sprint out of the house and through the gate that was half-broken anyway. Newt felt his lungs stop working, stricken with fear.

Shit. He wanted to kick at the car, tell Minho to get a bloody move on before they got an idea of Newt he didn't want them to have. Let him live as a normal guy in someone else's head, just once.

Alby ran at Newt, his nostrils flaring and his eyes filled with anger. Newt stepped back, his back against the car as Alby grabbed his shoulders, shook him like a rag doll.

“Bear- I didn’t!” Newt tried, but there was no point. Alby was mad; there was nothing he could do.

“Shut it,” Alby growled, analysing his eyes. Newt could feel his sweaty palms pushing against Minho’s car, but he had to keep his balance somehow. “What was it? You on dope again?”

“Nothing, Alby, I swear.” Newt shook his head frantically. Alby didn’t believe him, roaring angrily.

“Then where were you last night?!” He asked venomously, spittle hitting Newt’s cheek.

“I got bloody drunk, okay?” Newt replied, whimpering. Alby stopped what he was doing, stepped back, let go of Newt completely.

“Drunk?” He asked, his breaths getting quick and angry. “What did you do, Newt?”

Newt sobbed, pulling his t-shirt up slightly to reveal those hickeys along his stomach and chest. “I’m sorry,” he said as Alby pressed his thumb to one of the marks, analysing them.

His eyes shot back to Newt, narrowing cruelly. Then his palm raised and slapped Newt’s cheek. Before the younger bloke could try to defend himself, he’d grabbed his ear.

“Don’t you dare sneak out of this house again,” he said, pulling Newt’s head down. Newt heard the car door crack open, but kicked it closed before Thomas could get out, or before Alby could notice. “Do you understand?”

“Okay, okay, Alby, I’m sorry,” Newt strained to say, pain escalating around his ear. His gaze caught on the front door in the house, Zart and Jeff’s eyes peeking out at him. He felt himself get embarrassed, as Alby let go of him, staring at him angrily.

They’d have been in the meeting room in the front lounge by this time of morning. Front seat viewing for Newt's little fuck-up.

“I’m sorry,” Newt repeated to the floor, his eyes focusing on a patch of rocks on the concrete.

There was a pause, then he heard Alby sigh, and his arms slowly wrapped around Newt’s nimble frame, holding him. “The important thing is that you’re okay. I was so worried.”

Newt shook his head, hugging Alby back. “I’m sorry, bear.”

“You should be, Newt, you terrified me,” Alby whispered as he pulled back to look at Newt’s face. Newt stared back at him, searching for comfort in his eyes. He just got sympathy, but that was enough.

“Who’s in the car?” Alby asked with a lowered voice, touching the patch on Newt’s cheek that he’d hit. Newt glanced at his feet, shifting nervously as he explained.

“I woke up next to them. They offered to drive me home,” he said, watching Alby’s eyes widen, his eyebrow arching.

“What do you mean by 'them'?” He asked, but Newt could only reply with a nervous look and a chewed lip. Alby frowned, stepping backwards to lean his palm on the top of the car, peering into the windows. Newt half wanted to look and see what Alby was seeing, but he knew better than to move.

Alby looked in for a moment, thinking deeply, before he sighed, and pushed himself back to stand up straight. He didn’t say anything for a moment, then he gave Newt one kiss on the cheek. “Go inside, baby, I’ll give them The Talk.”

Newt nodded, staring at the ground as he performed the walk of shame towards the house. He was half glad he wouldn’t have to be there to witness Alby give two very sweet guys he’d known for a morning, ‘The Talk’.

The Talk was basically a bunch of information Alby told to every sexual partner of any of the addicts he was rehabilitating. In simple terms, it was a summary of different diseases that were easier to contract if you were an addict, or had sex with an addict and all that health crap. Newt understood that that stuff was important, but he hated seeing people’s faces when Alby gave them The Talk. It made them panic and made the addict feel like a criminal for having sex. Besides, no one currently living in the house had any STDs or anything; Alby could cut out half of The Talk if he just stated that first.

But still, he had no choice. The number one rule was “what Alby says goes”. That was definitely for the best. If Alby said you weren’t allowed to leave the house tonight, you weren’t going. If Alby said not to watch a TV show, the show was off-limits. If Alby said you couldn’t talk to a certain person outside the house, you cut them out. Newt sneaking out was a one-off act of rebellion, because he really, really wanted to see the new painting being revealed at the local art museum.

Usually, whether they liked it or not, everyone listened to Alby. The number of times Winston had made a huge fuss about not being allowed out to parties, then acted grateful when he’d found out there were drugs at that party was unbelievable. Alby knew best, it was just a fact.

Because even if they didn’t know they wanted to, everyone who’d sought Alby’s help and were staying at his place, wanted to get better. And everyone knew Alby knew how to.

No one really said anything as Newt walked into the house, his thin fingers fidgeting with his shirt. He was among the youngest people to sign up for recovery with Alby, and even though he'd been in the house for years now, people still thought of him as young. And in situations where his age really shone through, people often tried to avoid him. Some of the guys were in their late or mid-twenties, but most of them were in their thirties, a few people around forty and fifty. So, when Newt found himself feeling small and vulnerable, everyone could see just how young he was. And that scared most of the guys. That a person so young could have fallen into a trap like that. Some people understood because they’d started using young. But others just didn’t get it.

Obviously, he wasn’t _that_ young anymore, but the few that were still around from when he first got stuck in the loop, at sixteen, saw exactly how young he was from the beginning. Back then, he was just there every now and again for meetings his parents forced him into every week. And when they kicked him out and stopped seeing him, Alby was the one who brought him back, because Newt sorta developed a little crush on him. When he turned eighteen, he was legally allowed into the program, which meant he could stay there and whatnot, but his boyfriend at the time, George, convinced him not to move in for a few months, so he stayed at the warehouse they were squatting in with his friends, Darnell and Rachel.

Newt silently climbed the stairs, not bothering to look up from the ground as he counted the doorframes to get to Alby’s room.

That was another thing about being so young; dating a twenty-seven-year-old, who just happened to be the guy who was helping him get over his drug addiction did not make him all that popular. Alby had officially named him his second in command, but Newt did not have the same control over the guys as Alby had. In fact, he practically had none. No one really respected him that much for sleeping with the boss. That was fine with Newt. He hated acting like the leader.

He turned, sighing as he shut the door behind him, too tired out by the morning’s events to really care that no one was going to be too happy with him pit-stop-napping in Alby’s bed. But fuck them.

He dropped himself onto the bed, lying on his side as he noticed the window was open. He didn’t think much of it as he got comfortable under Alby’s sheets, breathing in the scent he was so used to, but after a moment he heard Alby chuckle. “Yeah, well, it’s just a precaution.”

Newt gave himself a confused look, staring at the window.

“Look, again, we really don’t remember anything about what happened last night. I’m sure if Newt had mentioned any of this, we’d have thought twice, but alcohol really does cloud your judgement.” Thomas. That was Thomas. “We really had no idea he was taken, never mind the drugs.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” Alby. “Newt does bad things when he gets drunk, that’s just how he is. He attacked a cop once, another time he robbed a convenience store, another time he blew all his money on smack then convinced himself to go down to the local church and insist they marry him and his dealer. He’s a disaster.”

Newt bit his lip. Alby said that a lot, but he was so right, Newt couldn’t fault him. It sucked.

“He sounds like an interesting guy.” That was Minho, right?

“Yeah.” Alby again. “Actually, I should probably go check on him. He looked rough.”

“Okay, well thanks for telling us about all this.” Minho again. “We’ll get checked soon as possible.”

For diseases, of course. Newt rolled his eyes; Alby made them get checked every month anyway, it’s not like they were disgusting mutants with the bloody plague.

“No problem.” Alby, with a smile. “Call if you need any more information, I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have.”

“We will, thanks.” Thomas. “Bye.”

The sound of car doors shutting made Newt sad slightly. It was a shame. He’d liked Minho and Thomas – he thought they were sweet. Shame he couldn’t see them again.

Well, technically he could. He knew where they lived; he could turn up any time he wanted to. Probably best not to, though, right?

It took a few minutes for Alby to find Newt, laying on his bed, ashamed and exhausted.

Thomas and Minho seemed nice, but now the only way they’d remember Newt was that infectious junkie boy they accidentally slept with that one time.

Alby was staring at him from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his shoulder leant against the doorway. His face wasn’t very telling; if he was angry, Newt couldn’t tell. Newt hoped not.

It took a moment of determination, but Newt managed to get himself to sit up. He pulled his legs under him, looking up at Alby with sad eyes. But really, when weren’t his eyes sad?

“I haven’t been drunk in weeks,” Newt frowned, his head bowing in disappointment in himself. “I was doing so well, bear. I thought I’d be good this time, I thought I’d make it for longer.”

Alby’s face gave in to his emotions, his nostrils flared. He slammed the door and walked the path to the bed, dropping over Newt to give him a look of angry disapproval.

“Who's fault do you think that is, huh? I told you that you couldn't go.”

Newt avoided his eyes, afraid of the bear his boyfriend had become. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I wasn't thinking.”

"No. You weren't thinking,” Alby snarled, grabbing Newt’s wrist to pull him close enough to smell his coffee breath. Newt stared at him, holding his breath, as Alby growled at him. “You've been here long enough, Newt. You know the rules, and you blatantly ignored them.”

Newt nodded, ashamed of himself. “I know. I know, I'm sorry.”

Alby considered the apology for a moment. It took a good ten seconds before he let go of Newt’s wrist and crossed his arms. His voice softened, “How's your face?”

Newt reached up to touch his cheek where Alby slapped him, his eyes down. "It stings, but I'll live."

Alby let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Newt. You just...You had me worried. It all came from a place of love, you know that."

"I know," Newt pushed himself up to plant a kiss on Alby's lips, soft. He knew Alby meant well, even if he struggled to show it.

Alby held his cheek delicately, a sad smile on his face as he let Newt wrap his arms around him. “I’ve got to get back to my meeting. You take a nap to catch up on some of that sleep you lost last night.”

Newt nodded silently, sure that anything he could say would just tick Alby off again. He let go of his boyfriend and lay back on the bed. Alby twisted on his feet and turned to the door, yanking it open before stepping out and shutting it behind him. Newt collapsed back onto the bed, letting himself breathe out his tension, and the tingly sting in his cheek.

"Home sweet home," he murmured to himself as he eyed the photo frame of him and Alby on the bedside cabinet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo!  
> Chapter 2 already? I feel so fancy, throwing out chapters so fast.  
> I hope you guys are liking this so far. I feel like I'm looking at my writing and being too biased, and I can't actually tell if people are catching my drift. Let me know what you think!  
> Thanks for reading,  
> Leave love :)


	3. T-Shirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning (mild spoiler):  
> -slight scenes of manipulation (not that obvious, but still could be distressing)

Newt couldn’t stop staring at the t-shirt. He was sitting in his room, or his, Frypan, Winston and Zart’s room. His bed was in the corner of the room, just next to the window, furthest from the door, which was a blessing. The further he was from the other guys’ rooms, the better. He slept on the bottom bunk, under Zart, opposite Frypan. The only thing he didn’t like about the bottom bunk was that he was tall, and the bunk was low, so he occasionally got a few head injuries here and there, especially if he had nightmares. Apart from that, the lower bunk suited him pretty well.

In their rooms, they each had a small set of drawers, lined up against the wall their bunks faced. Newt had decorated his, with sticky tack and pictures of his family, mostly his sister, and his friends, of which there weren’t many before the house. He was the outcast in his school, being British didn’t win him any favours like it had in previous schools, and being gay certainly made a difference to how the other kids treated him. He didn’t care about that though, he dropped out at sixteen and made other friends.

Every evening, Newt picked out his clothes for the next day and hung them up on the top bunk’s rungs. It was a trick Alby had taught them all in a meeting. “You wake up, you see your clothes. It gives you a reason to get up.” He couldn’t argue.

He hadn’t thought much of it last night when he was picking out his clothes. He’d hung up some fresh undies, a pair of loose jeans, a black t-shirt with some graphic design printed on it, and a jacket he didn’t really intend to wear unless it was cold enough.

When he woke up this morning, he completely disregarded the clothes hanging up, obscuring his vision of Fry and Winston’s bunk. Instead, he stared at his set of drawers.

Folded neatly on the table top was Thomas and Minho’s t-shirt. The charity one, the one Minho had given to him to replace the entirely useless, button-less one he’d left behind with them. Newt had thrown it in the wash the morning before, deciding not to think too much about whether to keep it or throw it away or whatever. He sorta assumed he’d probably just keep it, being low on clothes anyway.

But it sat there, almost with a glowing neon sign that said: “Excuse to See Thomas & Minho Again Here!”. He really hated the idea that all Minho and Thomas would remember of him now was that he was a young drug addict who cheated on his boyfriend in a drunken stupor, and who may have riddled them with sexually transmitted diseases. If he could just see them again, get an excuse to explain to them that he wasn’t just a horrible cheating git, maybe he’d leave a better taste in their mouths. Not in that way.

Newt bit his lip, staring at the shirt. He couldn’t stop looking at it.

On one hand, if he went to give them the shirt back, he’d get to see them again, get to say hello and how are you and possibly change their entire idea of him.

But, if he gave the shirt back, he’d have nothing to remember them by. If this was anyone else’s shirt, it’d be a bitter reminder of the night he broke sobriety and cheated on his boyfriend. But this was Tommy and Minho. Somehow it was a reminder of the time he’d woken up next to two strangers who helped him get through the morning. He didn't usually get that after a drinking night.

Maybe Newt was being stupid. This _was_ a bitter reminder. A reminder of the person he wished he could be, of the life he wished he could lead. Who was he to own, no, _steal_ a charity volunteer shirt? He’d never done anything for charity in his life. No, that shirt belonged to people who earned it. People with their life sorted out.

He showered, dried, shaved and changed in the shared bathroom connected to their room, after Zart, before Winston, then went down for breakfast, leaving the wretched t-shirt upstairs, not wanting to think about it.

It was all he could think about.

He sat in the dining room, listening to the clinks and clatters of twenty men reaching over each other to grab the bacon, or the sausages, or the cereal, or whatever else was on the table that was making Newt nauseous. He nibbled on a questionable piece of toast, suspicious of the butter Frypan had spread onto it. Fry was the main chef in the house, assisted only by Alby, Winston and Jeff. He didn’t have to cook, in fact, he wasn’t all that great at it, but if thirty-seven-and-counting men came bounding through the door hungry, Fry sure did supply enough to go around. And he did it all with a friendly smile and a modest attitude, which Newt thought was definitely a bonus.

“Eat more, baby, or you’ll be a skeleton forever.” Alby had said something like that this morning. That was what made Newt give in to the toast.

“Somethin’ on ya mind, Newtie?” Newt looked up from where he’d been staring at the ingredients list on the marmalade, that damn shirt distracting him from actually reading what it said.

It was Jeff who’d acknowledged him. He’d been here three months and had settled in better than Newt had by year two of his stay.

Newt frowned at him. He didn’t like the way Jeff was looking at him, curious like he was a book he was trying to read. Newt was happy to keep himself completely unreadable from the guys outside of his bunk room. Meetings were where they spilt their guts, his feelings weren’t meant for over-the-table conversation.

The people closest to him had begun to pay attention – Winston looked over at him, and Clint and Stephen stopped their bickering to tune into the conversation.

Newt swallowed the toast in his mouth, glaring at the plastic tablecloth with little blue dots covering it. He considered saying the whole “feelings are for meetings, not breakfast” speech, but his energy betrayed him, so he just sat there silently, taking another bite of his toast.

Jeff gave him a sour look as if offended by the silence. Newt ignored him, glancing over at the clock. It was just past 8:30. He could squeeze in his first meeting of the day, which judging by the fact that it was Thursday, would be an AA meeting that would start at 9:00, then get the 11 o’ clock bus down to Minho and Thomas’s place and hopefully give them their shirt back. If they were in work, he’d bring the shirt home and leave it for another day, or later in the day, so he could see them.

“Newt, you okay?” Winston leant over finally, it looked like he’d wanted to for a while. “You look really spaced out, it’s kinda creepy.”

Newt just shrugged, forcing down more of his toast.

The meeting started, just as it always did, at 9 am. Newt had plonked himself down in a seat near Alby’s, knowing Alby would want to call on him to speak first, or near first, because of the recent loss of his sober streak. There were about nine or ten people who came to the Alcoholics Anonymous meetings regularly. Most people didn’t come because they weren’t alcoholics, though the offer was there for them if they wanted to attend. Others didn’t feel they were ready to deal with the pressure of meetings yet. Some people still needed some nudging to realise they needed the meetings to recover.

There was a fresh face this time, a kid named Nick. He looked just about older than Newt – great, another one for the ‘older than Newt’ list.

Alby had everyone stand up, as always, to recite the ‘serenity prayer’. The program wasn’t particularly religious, but Alby reckoned that having a mantra to chant made the whole thing feel more welcoming. Newt thought it made the meeting seem more like a rally, but he didn’t tell Alby that.

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can’t change,” Alby paused, and those of them who’d done this before repeated him, though Newt could recite the prayer off the top of his head by now.

“The courage to change the things I can,” Alby said, waiting for the repetition, before ending the prayer with, “And the wisdom to know the difference.”

“And the wisdom to know the difference,” Newt muttered, bored. He sat before Alby said they could, but he knew it was coming anyway, so it was useless to stand around waiting for it.

Alby sat in the seat next to Newt, “accidentally” brushing his leg against Newt’s. The blond looked up at him as he spoke casually, wondering what he’d say about the whole t-shirt conundrum. He’d probably say Newt was overthinking it.

Newt had guessed it wouldn’t have taken long for Alby to shift the attention onto him, but it surprised him when Alby pretty much began the meeting with the sentence, “Newt lost his three-week sober streak from alcohol this week.”

That sentence was about enough for Newt to check out of Alby’s speech until he gave Newt the cue to talk.

He shifted forward in his seat, too used to this routine. “Hello, my name’s Newt.” They were supposed to say that, then people could say “hi Newt” back, but Newt focused his eyes on Nick when he said it this time. Nick probably knew who he was, because Newt knew who _he_ was, but might as well make sure.

Newt brought his gaze to the floor. “So...I broke the rules. I snuck out of the house to go to the art museum. There was champagne, it was free, I only wanted a sip. I know I'm the bloody shank always barking on about the rules and always doing what Alby says but I fucked up and I'm sorry."

Newt glanced at Alby, hoping that was enough for him. He was ashamed of himself, embarrassed. As relieving as Alby thought it might be, Newt wasn't sure he wanted to talk about it.

Alby's eyebrows twitched, his head nodding. "Tell them what you did."

Newt's breath began to quicken. He shook his head, panicking a little bit because he'd  _cheated_ on  _Alby._ The last thing he wanted to do was tell his housemates about it.

The silence continued until Alby's face became stern. "Tell them."

Newt threw his eyes to the laces on his shoes, blinking until the tears in his eyes shrank away. He knew what Alby was doing. This was his punishment for cheating. Alby wanted to embarrass him. He pushed a long, shaky breath out.

"When I was drunk." He closed his eyes, his face reddening. "I cheated on Alby. I made a dumb mistake, and I'm really, really sorry."

Alby raised his eyebrow, and Newt sighed, realising he still wasn't satisfied. "I don't know how it happened. But it's haunting me. And that buggin' t-shirt Minho gave me-"

“Wait, Minho? Like Minho and Thomas?”

Newt looked up, his eyebrows furrowed. Nick had spoken, his eyes right at Newt’s, a look of realisation on his face.

“Nick, we don’t speak when someone else is speaking-” Alby tried to say, but Newt nudged him with his elbow.

“How did you know?” He asked, astonished. Nick noticed people looking at him and shrugged, dropping his eyes to the floor.

He mumbled, his cheeks turning pink. “Thomas is my cousin, his dad paid the fees for me to be here.”

Newt blinked at him. Oh. That was a coincidence.

He felt something weird in his stomach. A mixture of relief and excitement, and the slightest hint of nerves. Maybe Thomas would come visit his cousin some time. Maybe he knew exactly what kind of life Newt was going back to when they pulled up in front of the house the morning before.

Forcing a smile, Newt looked at Alby, shrugging. “That’s all, I think.”

Alby’s lip twitched, like he wanted to say something, but chose not to. He changed the subject to Nick.

Newt just sunk back into his seat, eyeing Nick. He had to get that t-shirt back to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> And here's chapter 3! I wrote chapter 3 and 4 right after each other because I know chap. 3 isn't that eventful and I didn't wanna leave anyone hangin', so chap. 4 should be up the same time as this. A lot of :( to come, so stay tuned!  
> Thanks for reading,  
> Leave love x


	4. T-Shirt Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings (spoilers):  
> -Physical abuse  
> -Vomit

There was no answer. Of course, there was no answer. Minho and Thomas were responsible adults with jobs who, of course, wouldn’t be home mid-day on a Thursday. What was Newt even thinking?

He cursed himself, lighting a cigarette hanging from his lips as he climbed off of the bus onto his street.

They were probably off saving kittens or babies or building houses for the poor or something ridiculously mature and adult and kind because that’s just the kind of people those two insufferable heroes were.

Newt sighed, staring down at the t-shirt in his hands as he walked towards the house.

He should just throw the shirt away. It obviously wasn’t that important, if Minho would hand it out to a stranger. And why did Newt care about what two people he’d never see again thought of him? They weren’t important to his life.

He analysed the print on the shirt as he opened the gate to the house and walked up the path in the front garden towards the door.

**Finding Homes for Young LGBT+ People / Because No One Should Suffer for Love**

How was it that two charity workers with jobs and good lives had hooked up with _him_? He was an alcoholic twenty-one-year-old with a boyfriend who was also his rehab officer.

Compared to them, he was the biggest failure they could have picked for a one-night-stand, and these guys were the closest things to professional one-night-stand havers, with their ‘open relationship’ or whatever it was called.

He didn’t get it. He didn’t get any of it.

He swung the door to the house open, frowning as he blew cigarette smoke out of his lungs.

Maybe he could burn the shirt. It could symbolise saying goodbye to his drunken nights, could restart his sober streak. No, that was stupid. Where would he even burn it? The garden? That was a health and safety risk. He was being dumb and overly poetic, he should just let it go.

Newt stepped into the kitchen, only looking up at the figure standing at the sink before wading towards him. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and held it between his index and middle finger as he wrapped his arms around Alby’s waist from the back, exhaling into his shoulder.

Alby jumped at his touch, surprised. It took a second for him to realise whose fingers were entwining with his own, but when he did, he squeezed Newt’s hands.

“They weren’t in,” Newt murmured, as Alby twisted himself around in his arms. He chuckled, smirking when he pressed a kiss to Newt’s hair.

“I think I know why,” he whispered. Newt pulled his head up, eyebrows furrowed. Alby smiled at him, nodding towards the kitchen table.

Oh, shit.

Really? Had they really come to see him? While he had gone to see them?

Newt felt his stomach drop. Blushing and embarrassed, he let go of Alby and turned to the table.

Minho sat, smiling at the two of them, a steaming cup of tea or maybe coffee warming up his hands. “Thomas made me come talk to you.”

Newt raised an eyebrow, shoving his cigarette into his mouth to pull his sleeves over his knuckles nervously. Alby would not like that Minho was here. “Thomas?”

A hand touched his back, startling him. Alby leant forward to kiss his cheek. “Go sit, I’ll give you some privacy.”

Newt glanced at him, nodding, with the quiet mumble around his cigarette, “Thanks, bear.”

Alby smiled, then headed for the door, as Newt moved to sit opposite Minho at the table. The door shut behind Alby, and Minho leant forward, over his cup.

“Bear?” He asked, his smile a sweet one. Newt felt his cheeks turn pink, he dragged from his cigarette then pulled it out of his mouth, to tap the ash into the tray in the middle of the table.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “I told him once he looks like a bear when he gets angry. It stuck.”

Minho’s smile faltered slightly. “When he gets angry?” He had a sad, serious look on his face. “Does he always hit you?”

Newt paused for a moment, remembering that Alby had slapped him when Thomas and Minho had dropped him off. Thomas tried to get out of the car, maybe to defend him. Newt thought that was sweet.

“No,” he lied, before adding, “He was worried, I broke my sober-streak, there was a lot going on.”

Minho didn’t say anything.

Newt realised it was up to him to change the subject when Minho disappeared into his thoughts, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes focused on mid-air.

“So, um, why are you here?” He cleared his throat to get Minho’s attention, snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray.

Minho looked at him, plastered on another of his smiles, this time a casual one. “Oh, well, it’s my day off so I took a midday run and I was just in the neighbourhood so I thought I’d visit and see how you’re doing.”

Newt gave him a suspicious look. “No one’s just ‘in the neighbourhood’ in this neighbourhood.”

Minho chuckled. “Newt, that’s code for ‘I diverted my running path to your neighbourhood so I could stop in’. Besides, I told you, Thomas made me come.”

“Oh,” Newt said in a small voice, embarrassed he hadn’t picked up on that. “So, why did you want to ‘stop in’?”

Minho left a moment of silence, to plan out his words carefully before he spoke. “After Thomas and I dropped you off, we did some research on this place. Thomas wanted to know how long this place has been open for, so we called Alby.” He paused. “He casually mentioned that you’d been living here for almost five years. Thomas and I…” he paused again. “We want to offer you a place to live. With us.”

Newt felt himself freeze over.

What?

What did that mean?

Why would they do that? They knew him for a night that they didn’t remember and a morning when they hadn’t really talked.

Newt stuttered, his mouth hanging open. “Wh-What?”

Minho gave him a twitchy smile. “Look, it's been five years, you must be wettin' your tighty-whities wantin' to get out of here. Thomas’s dad used to be an alcoholic, he can be your sponsor. You can move in with us, you’d have your own room, your own bed, and I can give you a ride to meetings here whenever you need them. Thomas and I’ve been meaning to rent out the spare room anyway, and it wouldn’t be more than a few bucks a month, we’ve already got enough money to keep up expenses, you’d just be paying for what you use, y’know? Obviously, it’s your choice, and it’s so sudden, but- if you’re lookin' for a place to stay outside of here, we’re offering.”

Newt couldn’t stop staring at him.

“Why?” He somehow got out of his mouth.

Minho opened his mouth, then closed it, and suddenly he looked confused like he didn’t know how to answer that question. Then he said, “Thomas knows what it’s like to help someone through trying to stop using, with his dad and all, and when he heard about how long you’d been trying living here, he wanted to help. So, I do too.”

Newt, open-mouthed, dropped his chin to his chest.

He felt…grateful. Maybe he could really get a chance at life now. Maybe he could get a job and pay some bills and get his own place someday. Maybe-

His gaze caught on the yellow, creased t-shirt balled in his fist. The charity t-shirt. Finding homes for LGBT+ kids. Did that include gay alcoholics?

Newt felt his face drop to a stern frown. He looked up, gulping as he dropped the shirt onto the table. “Is this what I am? Another of your bloody charity cases? Another sad kid to help out to make you feel better about yourself?”

Minho’s face dropped. “Newt, that’s not what I-”

“We barely know each other, the only reason you’re doing this is that to you I’m just a kid who can’t survive without your special sympathy,” Newt snarled, his teeth gritted.

Minho shook his head, his eyebrows furrowed. “Newt, that’s not what this is about. We just want to help you, that’s all. That t-shirt isn’t even ours, Teresa left it at our apartment and Thomas never got it back to her.”

Wait, really? So, they weren’t superhuman charity organisers?

Hm. Maybe Newt had the wrong idea of them.

No, they were still trying to treat _him_ like a charitable cause. Even if they hadn’t done it to other people.

Newt scoffed. “I don’t need your help. We slept together once, by accident, technically. You have no right to be trying to help me with my problems.”

Minho opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed. “Okay. That’s fair.”

“Yeah, it is,” Newt said, just because he was still angry about this and needed to keep up the conversation.

Minho paused for a moment, then pushed himself to his feet. “Newt, I get why you’d be hesitant about this. But our offer comes from the bottom of our hearts. We really want to help you, Newt. It’s okay if you choose not to accept our offer, but if…if you change your mind, in five minutes or ten years from now, our door's open for you. You know where we live.”

Newt stared, hard-faced, at Minho as he picked up the t-shirt, then made his way to the kitchen door. He turned back, sending Newt one of his sad smiles, then left the room. Newt waited a while after he left to leave, in case he was waiting there with “we got you!” banners to reveal all this as a trick. When Newt finally did leave the room, no such sign emerged.

He ignored Alby’s attempts to talk to him and headed upstairs. He’d take a shower, think things over.

It wasn’t like he was going to change his mind about the whole thing. He just…needed to think it through.

This was his chance at life. This was his opportunity to move out of here and take matters into his own hands. The longest he’d been off of heroin was a month, after six years of being on and off it. That was a clear sign that Alby’s success rates didn’t apply to his addiction.

He headed to his room, then to the bathroom, noticing just before he reached for the door handle that the dial was set to 'occupied'. He frowned. No way was he asking to use someone else’s. God, this day was getting to him.

What he needed was a drink. He needed a big old bottle of whiskey. No, he needed to shoot-up.

“You don’t need drugs, you want them.” Alby’s words. A bit obvious, but sometimes it helped get Newt out of the cravings.

No, he didn’t need drugs. He needed a nap. No, not that either.

He needed to do this. He needed to move out. This was his chance.

Newt headed to his bed and pulled out his bag from underneath it. Almost smiling, he felt hope bubble in his stomach, as he opened up his drawers and began to put his important things in his bag. He could come back some other time and get everything else. He was excited. This was exciting. This was new and hopeful and exciting.

He turned, about to get his photo from the back of the door; the one he put up when he was eighteen and had just moved in, to claim his spot in the room, but the door burst open.

Alby scowled at him, closing the door behind him.

Newt’s face dropped, any excitement falling away as he threw his gaze to the floor. He took nervous steps backwards, bracing himself for the hurricane he could feel coming towards him with Alby’s steps forward.

“What’s that?” Alby asked, nodding to the half-empty bag on the bed. Newt bit his lip.

"Alby,” he began, his back hitting the pole holding the top bunk of his bunk-bed up. “Listen, bear. Please. Minho offered me a place to live. I want to go.”

“Newt, you don’t get to decide that by yourself,” Alby snarled, his bold shoulders tensing until he looked so angry Newt wanted to cry. “We’d have to do risk assessments, make sure they’re fit to house you, above all, _I_ have to agree to let you leave.”

“I know, that’s why I was going to come to talk to you about-”

“Newt, you fucking idiot!” Alby screamed, and Newt threw himself back so hard he heard a bone in his back click. “You dumb fucking junkie, Newt. Who do you think you're kidding? Trying to run away like this. What, do you think they can look after you like I can?”

“Alby.” Newt squeezed his eyes shut and wished desperately in his head that when he opened them Alby wouldn’t be standing in front of him. "Please. I've been here five years, it's time-"

“They can't.” Newt opened his eyes, sobbing. “Look at yourself, Newt. You’re a walking pile of bones, a high school drop-out, a disaster. I should get a medal for being with you in the first place, you really think some other guy is going to be able to care about you the way I do?”

Newt felt tears sting in his eyes as Alby held his waist, shoved him harder against the pole digging into his spine. He whimpered, looking over to the bathroom door, trying to pull it open with his will so whoever was in there could save him from this horrible situation. “Alby, please, stop.”

“Not until you realise that people like Minho can’t love you.” Alby’s hands squeezed his waist tightly until Newt squealed with pain.

He dropped his head, sobbing at the floor, but Alby’s left hand shot up to hold his neck and make him look him in the eyes. “You know that, don’t you, baby?”

“I know-,” Newt could barely rasp the words out through the tight grip around his throat. Fear, like a cold slap against his cheek, gripped him so that he couldn’t move. “Alby, I can’t- breathe-”

“And you know I’m barely holding on by a string, so you don’t want to push it, do you, Newt?” Alby’s eyes burned venomously, and Newt felt his head starting to go dizzy, black seeping into the corners of his vision. He wanted to scream, but the tight hand around his neck wouldn’t let the sound out.

Desperate for air, Newt raised his hand to try to pry Alby off of him, absently spitting out, “I know! I-I know all of that! That-That’s no-not why I want to g-go! Al-”

The sound of the bathroom door unlocking was music to Newt’s muffled, watery ears. Zart shoved the door open, immediately rushing over to throw Alby off of the blond.

“Alby, fuck!”

Newt didn’t wait a single second, he didn’t even grab his bag, or take a second to catch his breath. He flew to the door and tossed himself through the corridor to get downstairs. He knocked Fry and a tray of sandwiches over trying to get out of the house, but didn’t stop, and sped out of the house, and as far as he could run, as fast as possible.

After running for ten whole minutes, he doubled over, and let the contents of his stomach pour out of his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't really say anything too chirpy rn, this was quite a heavy chapter to write. But hey, Newt's been offered a home!  
> Find out whether he accepts the offer in the next few chapters ;))) (clickbait)  
> Thanks for reading,  
> Leave love!


	5. H, Speed, anything. C'mon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings (spoilers):  
> -Not so graphic sexual scenes (NonCon-ish)  
> -Prostitution (kinda?)

Oh god, oh god. That ache, the unmistakeable dizziness in Newt’s body. The cold seeping in through his clothes.

Shit, it was only 11 pm and he couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t be back here, on the streets, after five years of sleeping soundly and eating well. In a rehab centre of all places. He couldn’t do this.

He needed a drink, something strong, but thank god for his recovery, he had no money. The sun had dropped from the sky three hours ago, and the cold had walked its way into the empty, dark street. He was tired. He was hungry. He needed to find somewhere to stay for tonight or no doubt, he’d never get back up from homelessness and drug abuse.

This was horrible. This was really horrible. He didn’t want to live like this again.

Going back to Alby was no option. The closest homeless shelter was the exact same homeless shelter he used to meet his dealer after George in, so he wasn’t facing that place again. He’d rather die, cold and alone on the street than let Alby find him in Thomas and Minho’s.

He had nowhere he could go. God, he was cold. He only had on the sweater he’d been wearing earlier, and if he had any money, which he didn’t, he’d have to spend it on food.

He thought about Alby. Newt could see what he meant.

He was a disaster, that had been thoroughly established already.

And his dream of getting a job and living a normal life was tarnished, in ways, by his high school drop-out reputation.

And his body…his body was horrible. Heroin played into some rapid weight loss, but there was a depression in Newt, and often he just couldn’t stomach food. Not to mention, he’d been homeless for a long time, and the barely eating made him lose a heck of a lot. Even though he’d been clean from heroin for a month, and had had a steady source of food for six years, the weight felt impossible to regain.

It’s not like he had body issues. It just hurt a little when people reminded him. Sometimes he scared himself with how he looked, how his skin clung to his bones like everything between them had been sucked out.

Newt wasn’t sure he could love a man like that. It was dumb to assume anyone else could.

But that’s not even why he wanted to move out. He saw an opportunity at having a life, he saw a chance and he was desperate to take it. Thomas and Minho were strangers, yes, but they were good people. Newt got a sneak peek of it the morning they all woke up together. Well, nothing could be worse than living with a man who strangled him for trying to be alive.

He swallowed, pulling his sleeves over his fingertips, as he walked along the street, searching.

He remembered this from years ago, this routine.

He needed to find a place with a roof over it, if not a shop’s doorstep. Failing that, he’d find a bench. The bus-stop, that would work. He settled himself onto the seats, sitting against the plastic wall holding up the roof.

Next, food. Shit, he’d have to go without for the night. That was okay. He could do that.

Water was last on his checklist. He could see a public bathroom in his eye line. He’d use the taps if he couldn’t make enough in sympathy nickels to buy a bottle.

He paused.

This was usually where he’d ask himself where he could get his next dose of dope.

Fuck, that made him want some dope. He had no money, he told himself as he chewed his lip. How could he pay for drugs with no money?

Still, he’d done it before.

At that thought, he pulled his knees in, squeezing his thighs shut. His lip had begun to bleed slightly, he could taste it in his mouth.

C’mon, at least one dealer in this whole goddamn city would give him _something_ for sex, right? He’d gotten away with it before.

No, just because he was spending the night, regrettably, maybe longer, homeless didn’t mean he had to get sucked back into other old habits.

“Drugs don’t fix bad situations.” Alby always said. Alby was a fucking stunner when it came to stating the obvious.

Fuck Alby. Fuck bad situations.

Newt was going to get some fucking drugs.

He stood up and started off towards his shoddy old homeless shelter.

It took him half an hour to walk there, slightly longer if he counted the three minutes he spent haggling with a bus driver, who eventually kicked him off the bus.

He hated the swinging doors to the homeless shelter. Once they closed behind him, he felt eighteen again, searching eagerly for a high.

The inside hadn’t changed. The people had, no familiar faces, but the building itself hadn’t changed. It was still just beds, rows of them, from one end of the room to the other. Most of them were taken up, some by groups of people sleeping, others housed by people talking, and in some corners, the familiar sight of needles and small pills were occupying the residents.

Newt took a breath in. Following the scent of cigarettes, he found a group of about three men and one teen girl and dropped into their circle. If anyone here was willing to give away drugs for something shady, it’d be the dodgy looking group of creepy dudes sitting with a girl who looked like she was only sitting there to piss her parents off.

The man with the smallest cigarette gave him a look, his eyes glistening with curiosity. “What do you want, kid?”

Newt rolled his eyes. He was itching to use, he didn’t need the verbal foreplay. “I’m twenty-one.”

“Congratulations,” the girl, her eyes darkened with thick, black eyeliner, said, snarky.

“Shut up, Beth,” another guy piped in. She turned to glare at him, but Newt didn’t bother to watch them gurn at each other.

He looked at the first guy. “Do you have anything?”

The man raised an eyebrow like he was offended by the assumption that he would. He stared at Newt like that for a moment, but Newt just stared back at him.

“Look, I don’t have time for the bullshit, just do you have anything or not?” He asked, impatient. “H, speed, anything. C’mon.”

“Fuck off, asshole. We don’t need you stealing from our stash,” The girl, Beth, retorted. She seemed to want to look scarier than she really was.

Newt looked at her, his face a controlled annoyance. “You’re up a little late for a school night, don’t you think?”

The guy with the cigarette breathed out, handing the cigarette to the guy next to him, gaining Newt’s attention. “What’s a kid like you want with gear anyway?”

Newt felt his face look frustrated, which was pretty close to what he was feeling, so he couldn’t blame it. “I’m sitting in a homeless shelter, what more do you need to know?”

The guy considered this, then nodded, shrugging. “Fair enough.”

One of the guys was staring at him. Newt pretended not to see him, staring hard-faced at the man who seemed to be in charge of his little group.

“I’ll be honest, I don’t have money,” Newt told him, leaning forward towards him. The guy groaned, rolling his eyes.

“No. Get out of here, man,” he said, obviously disappointed. “No money, no gear. It’s simple.”

Newt shook his head, looking up at the man with as suggestive a look as he could muster. “There’s got to be something we can sort out, right?”

The man stared at him for a moment, really considering him, lingering on every feature of his face. He licked his lips, thoughtful, then moved his head to look at the girl. After a second, he looked back at Newt.

“I didn’t peg you for that type of man, sir,” he said, before looking at the girl. “What d’you think? Interested?”

Newt stared at her, wide-eyed, as she stared back at him, her eyebrows furrowed. She almost looked scared, like she was suddenly terrified of him.

Newt gasped, looking to the guy. “Shit, not her, she’s like fifteen, that’s disgusting! I meant you. Jesus."

The guy threw his gaze to Newt, his mouth opening slightly. He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Oh.”

Newt looked at the girl, giving her a genuine look of apology, as the man dazed into thoughts. She looked at the floor, her witchy fingers tugging at her black sleeves.

Newt recognised himself in her. Sitting with people far too old for her, pretending she wasn’t scared for her life every time anything bad happened.

“Alright.” The guy said finally, shifting himself to stand up. “C’mon.”

Newt gawped up at him for a moment. He was surprised that worked, and so quickly. But he eventually pushed himself to his feet.

The guy hopped over backpacks and scraps of cardboard signs to get to the bathroom, Newt close behind. God, Newt would kill himself after coming down from his high.

This felt all too familiar.

“What’s your name, kid?” The guy asked, holding his forearm to pull him into a stall.

“Kyle,” Newt told him, drawing his hands down to the guy’s waist. He didn't know why he chose that name. “You?”

“Marcus,” he grabbed Newt’s wrists, pulling his hands off his waist. He tried to push Newt down onto the toilet seat, a better vantage point, but Newt leant into him, dangerously close to his lips.

“What, you think this is my first time? Hand over the H first,” he whispered. Marcus paused, chuckling slightly.

Newt watched him reach into his pocket, as he whispered. “If they were all as smart as you, Kyle, I’d go out of business.”

Newt gritted his teeth, as Marcus handed him a small pouch of heroin. He took the pouch, shoved it into his back pocket. “Got any needles?”

He had a lighter in his back pocket, he didn’t need much more than that.

Marcus’s face scrunched up, but Newt just tutted. “C’mon, dude, I’m sure Princess won’t mind missing her dose.”

Marcus did not look happy as he handed over a covered syringe. But Newt was. He smiled, satisfied, at Marcus, then pushed the syringe down his sleeve. He held his face, slowly leaning in for a kiss, which he pressed right to Marcus’s lips.

Marcus groaned, dropping Newt onto the toilet seat. Rough, clumsy.

Newt felt himself gasp. The sex-for-drugs business wasn’t one for seduction or slow kisses. He should have remembered that sooner. So many years of trying to make Alby actually want to see him naked meant he had gotten used to a different technique.

He pulled his hands up, undoing Marcus’s pants. The man shoved him off, aggressive, as he undid his own fly.

Newt watched him, wondering whether he could get away without following through on his payment. He fucking hated doing this.

Marcus stared down at him, his eyes dull. Like Alby’s were sometimes. He tasted like diseases and cigarette smoke.

Fuck, what was Newt doing? God, why was he such a fuck-up?

Marcus held his hair, yanking enough to pull strands out around his fingers.

Was this even worth the drugs? Yeah, yeah, it probably was.

He made a noise when Marcus began to control his head, pushing too far.

All he wanted to do was be at home right now. Not even the rehab centre. His _home_ , with his parents. But God knew they didn’t want anything to do with him.

He sobbed, by accident, but Marcus took no notice. “If you want to stop, just say, and I’ll take back my drugs.”

He somehow stifled his next sob, wiping the hot tear that threatened to escape his eye.

It almost felt good to think about his parents, right now, sitting on a toilet in a homeless shelter, giving a blowjob to a guy who’d just given him heroin. He was everything they had hated in him when he was sixteen.

Marcus finally let his hair go, gripping onto his shoulder instead. He managed to look extraordinarily bored as he finished, with just a few grunts and zero regard for the fact that ‘Kyle’ was whimpering when he was finally done with him.

Marcus re-did his pants, unlocking the stall. “If you want any more, talk to me in an hour.”

Newt nodded silently. He stood up; despite never having taken off his clothes, he felt all too naked.

He washed his face, frowning at himself in the mirror.

At least he had the drugs now. He considered trying to snort it off the sink, but changed his mind, after tasting some of the water and wondering how clean the surface was. It wasn’t something he’d usually care about, but maybe his years with Alby warning him about how to be as careful as possible with his addiction had finally proved itself to be useful.

He needed the high now more than ever, though. That mellow, peaceful feeling. He fucking needed it.

He checked his pocket for the drugs as he left the bathroom. He’d find a secure place, then he’d-

“This is where he said he’d be, we’ll just have to keep looking.”

Thomas? And Minho? Thomas and Minho?

 _Oh, fuck_.

Newt really, really wished he could do something, move somewhere, but he was frozen, his feet stuck to the patch of floor they were on.

By the time he began to take steps back, towards the bathroom, Thomas had already spotted him.

Newt did the only thing he could think of, the only thing that didn’t involve trapping himself in the bathroom, and ran. He just sprinted, as fast as possible through the groups of people on the ground, and ran towards the doors.

He got out the doors, ignoring shouts behind him, and pegged it as fast as he could go. He didn’t care where he was going, he just had to get away.

Alby couldn’t catch him with them, not talking to them, not living with them, not anything.

His leg was starting to hurt- shit, his fucking leg was starting to hurt, and the adrenaline wasn't enough to block out the pain like it had been when he was running from Alby. He kept running, desperate to just get away.

He sobbed, as arms wrapped around his chest, from the back.

“Let go of me!” He screamed, tears falling out of his eyes, as a second pair of arms grabbed him from the front; Thomas, hugging him.

Minho let go, because Thomas had him secure in his arms, and Newt had given up on struggling remarkably fast.

He cried into Thomas’s shoulder, crying harder when he felt Minho’s hands reach into his pockets, only one of them coming out victorious.

“Please, don’t bloody take that!” Newt wailed, desperate, letting go of Thomas and turning to Minho and the drugs. “I- I gave a guy a blowjob for that! Please!”

Minho’s eyes widened as he stuffed the pouch into his own pocket. Thomas sighed, reaching out to take hold of Newt’s hand. Soft, but it still startled him.

“Newt, it’s okay.” He said, trying to be comforting. “C’mon, let’s get you to the car.”

“No!” Newt yelled, stepping away from them. “I want to stay here. Give me the gear.”

Minho looked at Thomas, who in turn looked at Minho.

“Newt, we’re trying to help you,” Minho said to him. “Can’t you see that? We’re trying to help.”

Newt caught Thomas shaking his head at him, and it was obvious he knew what he was doing.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Newt cried. “Just give me the drugs and leave me alone! I’ll fight you for it. C’mon.”

Minho bit his lip, stepping backwards. “Newt, no-.”

“Newt, stay with us for one night,” Thomas interrupted, pulling on Newt’s sleeve. “One night. If you want to leave by the morning, you can go.”

One night?

Newt paused for a moment. “Drugs and all?”

Thomas nodded, stepping in to hold his shoulders. “Yeah, Newt.”

So, pros, he’d get his drugs, a place to stay, food, shelter.

Cons, Alby might slaughter him violently.

Shit, was he an idiot?

“Fine,” he agreed.

Thomas smiled at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another heavy angst chapter for ya. Next one's less sad, promise.  
> Let me know what you're thinkin',  
> Thanks for reading,  
> Leave love :)  
> P.S. I had no idea how to label the trigger warnings on this one, so I hope they were good enough


	6. Take Me For What I Am

Thomas felt better now that Newt was sitting on the couch of their apartment, sipping some herbal tea that Minho had made for him.

All Thomas and his fiancé had to do was to convince Newt to stay with them. It would be hard, especially since Newt’s options were to stay with them, argue with his (hopefully ex-) boyfriend, and not get any of the white drug substance, or be homeless, avoid an argument and get drugs. Addicts always pick drugs, no matter the situation. Thomas knew that all too well.

Newt was staring up at him from the couch, his head down but his eyes up, it gave off a nervous energy.

Thomas leant against the cabinet near the door, staring down at him. He could hear Minho humming songs from Rent in the kitchen as he was making Newt a plate of food and almost wanted to call out to him to tell him it wasn't the most appropriate musical song for him to be humming right now.

He didn’t though, deciding maybe Newt hadn't noticed.

Newt shuddered as he took a sip from his drink, his fingers gripping tight onto the edges of the blanket around his shoulders. Thomas stepped forward, brought to attention by Newt’s goose-bumps. “D’you want a hot water bottle or another blanket?”

Newt looked into his tea. “What, is the bloody incubator in the shop for repairs?”

Thomas stepped back, sighing. Newt was clearly agitated. He had to understand that.

“Sorry.” He heard Newt murmur, frowning at his thighs.

Thomas just nodded at him. He understood this. He was craving drugs, he was scared he’d get in trouble for being here. His manners weren’t the first thing on his mind.

Newt looked up at the kitchen suddenly, his eyebrows furrowed, his lip curled slightly. Thomas almost gasped; Newt, smiling?

“Is he…” he began in a quiet voice, pausing to listen closely. “Is he singing Rent?”

Thomas smiled himself, chuckling slightly.

Minho looked up at him, probably sensing the eyes on him. He gave Thomas that sweet, caring smile he saved for special occasions, and picked up the tray of food he’d been preparing.

“ _Take me for what I am!_ ” He sang loudly, with a brilliant grin, sliding into the living room to give Newt a sandwich, a pack of pretzels, some leftover pizza and an apple cut up into semi-circles.

Newt looked up at Thomas, as Minho dropped the tray onto the coffee table in front of him, and hopped towards Thomas, singing more. “ _Who I was meant to be!_ ”

Thomas raised an eyebrow. He loved when Minho did this usually; Minho was a professional dancer but even if he wasn’t, dancing was something he felt horrendously passionate about, but maybe now wasn’t the best time.

“ _And if you give a damn,_ ” Minho continued, taking Thomas’s hand as he spun into his arms. Thomas squeezed Minho against him, so he couldn’t break something next time he broke into dance, laughing slightly.

“Really, Min? Now?” He asked, as Minho broke out of his arms and leant towards Newt.

Newt was smiling wider now, forcing the smile down, but failing, as Minho knelt on the coffee table to sing, to him specifically. “ _Take me, baby, or leave me!_ ”

Newt bit his lip, really trying to hold back a smile, as Minho cupped his chin, wagging his hips at Thomas, showing off his ass. Thomas smirked, picked at his back teeth with his tongue, crossing his arms over his chest. Minho, such a damn slut.

“ _Take me, baby, or leave me!_ ” Minho sang to Newt, who grinned back at him, biting into his sandwich. Minho pulled himself to his feet, turning to Thomas, who just stared at him, not bothering to hide how wide he was smirking.

“Just don’t get started on Seasons of Love, will ya?” He told Minho, as he held his hips, and pulled him closer.

“Um, Minho Park, lover of musicals, nice to meet you, I’ll sing what I want.” Minho leant in, to peck his nose, humming the tune as he spun out of Thomas’s arms and theatrically made his way back to the kitchen.

Thomas watched him for a moment, smiling, before looking down to Newt.

Newt scoffed to himself, like it was supposed to be a laugh, and muttered to himself. “Newton Cambridge, lover of abusers, nice to meet you.”

The blond was suddenly serious, his teeth chewing, but not getting anything down his throat. His eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes on a spot on the floor, he looked like he was either panicking or struggling.

“Are…Are you okay?” Thomas asked, watching Newt’s eyes flick to him, then down at his plate of food. He swallowed his food; it looked like he had some trouble with it though.

He tried to talk for a moment, Thomas waited patiently for the words to make sense in his mouth.

Newt pulled one of his sleeves over his fingers as he murmured. “Alby’s going to fucking kill me.”

Thomas let out a sigh, looking up at Minho, who leant against the kitchen doorway, a dishcloth and a plate in his hands. He wondered what it would be like having to run away from Minho for his own safety. Sure, Minho could be a hot head, but he'd never made Thomas feel that dark emotion hiding behind the glaze in Newt's eyes. And yeah, Minho and Ben argued - god, sometimes it was like trying to calm down two angry bulls. But it never got physical. Ever.

"I think we should call him," Minho said. He set his crockery down and walked over to Thomas. Thomas snapped to attention at the bump of Minho's shoulder against his, throwing his gaze at Newt.

The blond bit his lip, looking down at his herbal tea. He'd been protesting to letting Alby know he was with Thomas and Minho the entire car journey to the apartment, but now he was quiet, and Minho continued. "I know you're scared, Newt. But if you don't call, he might come searching around. If he finds out where we live, you can bet he'll be over here like a donkey with a freakin' firework up its ass. At least he can't throw punches over the phone."

Newt looked up, he still wasn't sure. His eyes drifted between Thomas and Minho, and Thomas crossed his arms over his chest. "I agree. It's safest on the phone."

"Yeah," Minho added, "And if that psycho wants to get to you, he'll have to go through these bad-boys first."

He held up his thumb, gesturing to himself and Thomas. Newt's mouth made a tiny-weeny smirk. Then it dropped, and he exhaled. "Alright."

Minho forced a casual smile, then sauntered over to the kitchen, probably to get his phone. Newt kept his eyes on Thomas, his Adam's apple bobbing with a gulp. "Can I ask you two a question?"

Thomas, his mind still on the tiny smirk Newt wore for half a second, nodded, glancing at Minho. “Sure.”

“Why did you offer to let me stay with you?” Newt asked, crossing his arms over his chest anxiously. “You don’t even know me. And I’m a heroin addict, that’s usually a deal breaker.”

Thomas smiled slightly, moved to sit himself down on the couch next to Newt, stalling to think up a cohesive way to phrase his answer. “Truthfully, after I saw Alby slap you, I realised I couldn’t let you stay stuck there. I figured there was a reason you didn’t live with someone else, like your family, or even on your own, so I thought it was only right for me to throw you a line and give you a way out. If I didn’t, I’d just be letting you stay trapped there. And you don’t deserve that, especially not while you’re vulnerable with your addiction.”

The rage that bubbled in Thomas when he saw the way Alby treated him, and then the way he turned around and smiled at Thomas and Minho like everything was fine, was overwhelming. No way could Thomas be a bystander to that stuff.

Newt didn't say anything. Minho held back on handing him the phone for a moment, in case he had something worth sharing rattling around in his brain, but he was quiet. Minho gave him the phone, and he typed a number in. Thomas eyed Minho, feeling an awkwardly tense atmosphere as Newt set the phone to speaker and put it on the table. "You speak."

Minho sat on Newt's other side, his knee bouncing restlessly as the phone began to ring. "Newt, I think he oughtta hear it from you."

Newt bit his lip, glancing at Thomas before burning a stare into the phone.

" _Hello?_ "

Newt shuddered at the sound of Alby's voice, chewing one of his nails anxiously as he murmured, "Alby. It's Newt."

The phone was silent. Then, " _Newt? Oh my god, are you okay? Where are you? You didn't use, did you? Look, I'm so, so sorry about what I did. God. I scared the shit out of myself, Newt. The second you left, I went into full hysteria. That was the closest I ever came to relapsing, baby, I swear. I was so scared I'd lost you forever._ "

Thomas and Minho shared a glance when Newt's eyes began to pool along the bottom. Was he buying this shit? How could he not see that Alby was playing the victim?

Newt didn't interrupt. He waited until Alby had everything out of his system, and was more or less silent, then sighed. "I'm safe. I'm at a friend's place."

Another glance told Thomas Minho didn't think Alby would leave it there either.

" _A friend's place? All your friends live here, Newt, and I know you don't have Darnell's number. Where are you?"_

Darnell? Thomas didn't ask.

Newt continued to chew his nails. "They found me at the homeless shelter. It's not my fault, okay, Alby? But I'm leaving in the morning. I don't know if I'll come home."

Alby knew what Newt meant by 'they', and Thomas wondered how much they'd spoken about him and Minho. " _Newt, give me your address, I'm coming to pick you up right now._ "

"No." Newt sounded certain, but his next sentence was small and insecure. "I don't feel safe with you anymore."

Thomas wrapped his arm around Newt's shoulder, comforting him with a half-hug.

" _Newt. Don't say that. I was just so scared that I'd lose you. I panicked because I love you so much. I know I shouldn't have done it. I panicked, I fucked up. I'm so sorry. Please come home, baby._ "

Newt curled his hair behind his ears and pulled up his sleeves like a teenager getting ready to start a fight. He picked up the phone, turned it off of speakerphone and held it up to his ear. "Alby, I love you too. I'm sorry I scared you. But I don't think it would be a good idea for me to come home just yet. Alright?"

Thomas decided not to point out how ridiculous it was that  _Newt_ would have to apologise.

There was a pause, then Newt glanced at Minho. "I won't.......I'm not........I'm leaving in the morning.......No, Alby. No, Alby, don't you bloody dare! Alby!"

He pulled the phone from his face and stared down at it, his face a sour disbelief. "The bloody bastard hung up on me."

Minho looked at Thomas, but Thomas kept his eyes on Newt. "What did he say?"

Newt set the phone down on the table and ran his hands through his unkempt hair. "He's coming to pick me up in the morning."

He buried his head in his knees, his bony fingers gripping tight onto the strands of his poor, tortured hair. Minho ran a hand over his spine, trying to calm him. "Newt, if you don't want to go, we'll make sure you don't. Even if you don't wanna stay here, we'll keep him away from you. Promise."

Newt's grip on his hair loosened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV change 5 chapters in? Have you lost your /mind/, Sarcasm?  
> For the sake of the story, there'll be POV changes every now and again. Hope that's not a problem for anyone.  
> I tried my best to keep the momentum goin' but this chapter was supposed to be a little slower and less intense anyway, so I promise it's just that that made this one seem more mellow and not the POV change.  
> Thanks for reading,  
> Leave love :)  
> P.S. I just noticed I didn't put Minho/Newt in the relationship tags. I know it's kinda redundant since the entire fic is thominewt but just so y'know, there'll be minewt ;)  
> P.P.S. Newt's name is Newton Cambridge because Isaac Newton studied at Trinity College in Cambridge (that's a recurring theme for giving the characters last names I had no idea how else to do it lmao)


	7. New Rules

Newt stared at the ceiling.

He could hear Thomas's breathing against the pillow, and could feel Minho's breath on his neck by his side. How long had it been now? Six hours, seven?

Newt knew he should be asleep. The room was hot, and Minho's arm around him was comfortable, and the mattress was unbelievable compared to his bunk back at the house. This should be the best night sleep he'd had in ages.

But it wasn't. Far from it.

Worry kept him awake, mostly. Minho told Newt about how they knew where he was - Alby had called them, and said to take him straight back to the house if they found him. A couple of questions to Thomas's cousin, Nick, and a raid through the phone book and Alby would know exactly where to go to drag him back to the house.

Newt kept expecting someone to knock on the door, every time he heard sounds from the surrounding apartments he felt a slither of fear in his spine, and tears would fight their way into his eyes. Thomas would hold his hand tighter, and Minho would kiss his shoulder, and he'd take desperate breaths from his cigarette, hoping a nicotine rush would be enough to help him relax. The sheer terror that the thought of Alby struck into his chest wasn't right. He was willing to admit that much. But this had never happened before. He'd never felt like Alby could really do him damage before. A couple of bruises and one or two black eyes had become commonplace for Newt, but he'd never considered that someday Alby's 'anger issues' might lead to something far more dangerous.

If Zart hadn't interrupted, Newt could be dead. The thought echoed through his brain like a bullet ricocheting, splintering into every memory he had of Alby.

The sky was a dark purple, and the alarm clock next to Thomas's head said 6:32 am by the time Newt ran out of cigarettes. Anxiety seeped into him, and he couldn't continue to lay here anymore. His throat was dry and croaky after chainsmoking for several hours, he should get himself a drink.

He sat up in bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping couple. It was nice that Thomas didn't want him to sleep alone. There was something kind in him. And it was sweet of Minho to borrow him some pyjamas, even if the tank top ate him whole, and the shorts had 'juicy' written on the back.

He carefully tip-toed out of the bed and towards the door, his hands fidgeting restlessly as he reached for the door handle. Why was he so nervous? Minho had told him he was safe here.

_"Don’t think about him. He’s not here yet. You’re safe from him here with us, I promise.”_

Newt held onto the words, gripping a glass of cold water in his hands, repeating the phrase to himself as he sat at the kitchen counter and took a moment to breathe in air that wasn't poisoned with tobacco.

Newt was safe. Alby wasn't here. Everything was okay.

"No!"

Newt jumped, spilling his water over the counter. He heard another yelp as he hurried to grab some tissue, cold damp sinking through his top.

"Thomas!" Newt wiped the countertop and tossed the tissue into the bin, looking towards the bedroom to see if he could figure out what was happening. The bedroom door was still shut, Minho was squealing 'no' at Thomas. "Thomas,  _ja gi_!"

Newt heard Thomas laughing quietly, and bit the inside of his bottom lip. Slowly, he made his way to the bedroom door, edged on by more of Minho's sounds of distress, and pushed it open with his fingertips.

"Thomas, stop fucking tickling me!"

Newt stared in at them, the scene in front of him sending a warmth through his heart.

Thomas had his hands on Minho's waist, his fingers fidgeting and making Minho struggle in his grip. They were both laughing, huge grins on each of their faces, and Newt felt a small smile collect in the corners of his mouth too.

This was what mornings were supposed to be. Not craving hard drugs, not cuddling with a boyfriend who never cuddled back, not staring at a t-shirt and wishing he could just see two kind strangers one more time. This was how life should be. Newt should be laughing with them, his body tangled in the mess of theirs, even if it was just a hand. This was what his life was supposed to be before all this addiction stuff happened.

He was supposed to leave high school and go to art school, become a painter, meet a beautiful young man with swoopy hair and a way with words, who he’d marry. They’d wake-up like this every day, smiling, laughing, kissing, holding. That’s how life should have been.

But his dumb ex, George, and heroin lodged themselves into the plan, and look at him now, intruding on a moment he should be familiar with, but had never seen in real life before.

It made him feel wrong, perverted in a way. Like a mere servant trying on the King's clothes. He didn't deserve this, and yet here was where his stumble and fall had led him.

"Did your mother never tell you it's rude to stare?"

Newt frowned, blinking once or twice to break away from his thoughts. Thomas smirked up at him, Minho scurrying out of the bed and away from Thomas's reach. He pulled a sweater from inside the closet and pulled it over his head, wrapping an arm around Newt's waist as he pulled the fabric down his chest.

"It's morning." Newt didn't want to waste any time. The longer he waited, the closer he was getting to Alby turning up.

Thomas forced a drowsy smile, sitting up in bed. "So it is."

Newt frowned at him, turning his head to look at Minho. He was hoping he wouldn't have to say it. "I...It was really nice of you blokes to let me stay. But...the deal was one night and I'd get my drugs back. And I want to get going before Alby figures out where you live."

Minho's face fell, his arm around Newt retreating slowly as if he was seeing the blond for what he really was; a dumb fucking junkie.

Thomas stood up, and reached out to touch Newt's arm, his warm fingertips sending tingles up Newt's wrist. "Newt, say we give you your drugs, what then? Where are you going to go?"

"You're not going back to Alby," Minho cut in, a stern look on his face. He grabbed a pair of jogging pants and pulled them up his legs, over his boxers. "He can apologise all he wants but you'll get on a plane and send yourself all the way back to shuck England before I let that shank get his hands on you again."

Newt's heart began to tighten in his chest. He knew they'd be adverse to him going back to the house. Even Newt was going to leave it a few nights. But the house was home, he did want to go back eventually. And even though Newt was terrified of facing Alby again, he knew he should. Alby loved him. Alby was scared he'd leave him and he panicked and hurt him. Alby was scared.

It sounded so foreign. Alby was never scared. He was Newt's fearless boyfriend, the house's fearless leader. But he was  _scared_ of Newt leaving him. If that wasn't love, Newt didn't know what was.

Thomas had this heavy sadness in his eyes, and his hand on Newt's wrist squeezed and loosened like he wanted to remind Newt it was there. He forced a sad smile and said in a gentle voice, "Stay with us. We'll give you your stash, okay? Just promise me you'll let us know when you use. Please."

Newt felt a wave of relief overcome him, and shocked himself at just how scared he'd really been to go home to Alby. The only thing that had kept him wanting to leave was the promise of getting his drugs back. The offer to stay became much more tempting the moment the dope was guaranteed.

"Newt?" Thomas asked, expecting some kind of answer. "Stay."

Newt swallowed, nervous to make such a decision. He couldn't help feeling like he was betraying Alby. He ran his hands over his face, trying to give himself an excuse not to kid himself into a lifestyle he didn't belong in. "I'm a heroin addict. You don't want me here."

Minho said it, spoke in a kind, quiet voice. "We never said we wouldn't have rules, _yobo_. We can cope with you being an addict if you just follow the rules. And it's beer and pizza night tonight, no way you're missing out on that to freeze to death on the streets. How many times do we have to ask you to move in with us for you to realise that we obviously  _do_ want you here?"

The statement hit Newt in the lungs, and his breath became slow. They did want him. They cared about his well-being. Newt pulled his hands away from his face, his eyes finding Thomas's. "Are you sure?"

Thomas looked sombre. He let out a breath, then turned to the cabinet behind him. Newt watched him walk over, open the top drawer, reach in, and pull out Newt's pouch of white. He closed his eyes for a moment as if he was making a compromise with himself, and finally turned to hand it over to Newt.

It felt like a relief in his hand. Like everything would be okay now that he could take his medicine. He chewed his bottom lip. Alby would kill him. Maybe not just figuratively.

"What are the rules?" Newt asked, still contemplating his dirty drugs.

He could feel Minho moving, and Thomas's toes wiggled on the floor behind Newt's hand, which he was focused on.

When he looked up, he found that Minho had grabbed a notepad and a pen with a logo on it. "Okay." Newt watched as he sat on the bed, leaning the pad on his knees, and split the page into two columns.

 _Newt's rules_ and  _Minho and Thomas's rules_. Newt watched him curiously. He wasn't aware that he'd be allowed to set boundaries too. But now that he thought about it, it sounded like a good idea.

"Minho and Thomas's rules," Minho said, looking up at him. He patted the space on the bed next to him, and Newt forced himself to sit, watching Minho tap the edge of his pen against his lips, thinking.

Thomas sat on Minho's other side, and it all suddenly seemed so serious. This was real. He was moving in. He shoved his drugs into his pocket.

"How about we make it a rule that Newt only uses in the apartment," Thomas piped in. Newt seemed surprised by that. Who would want his gross drug paraphernalia contaminating the bright feeling of the apartment? Thomas continued as if to plead his case. "Look, if you're only ever taking drugs in the apartment then we can make sure you're doing it safely, and we might be able to help you avoid it altogether. I think it's a good idea."

Newt didn't say anything, but he was rather glad when Minho jotted it down in his weirdly tidy hand-writing. He didn't expect Minho to write like a four-year-old with a Crayola, but not even Alby used joined letters in his writing.

Minho began to write another rule but stopped to confirm it with Thomas and Newt. "You have to go to meetings at least once a week. It doesn't have to be with Alby, I'll drive you, but I think it's a good idea."

Thomas nodded, and Newt wondered what exactly he was supposed to say to Alby when he got here. If he could even figure out where they lived.

"I have another rule," Thomas decided, sitting up. He took in a deep breath and gave Newt a smile. "Look, Newt. You know that Minho and I have an open relationship?" Newt nodded, wondering where this was going. "Well, the other people in our relationship are just as much a part of this little family as Minho and I. So, my rule is that you try to get along with Ben and the girls. If you can't be civil to all of us, you're not welcome here."

It was so definite, and Minho didn't even check to see if that one was okay with Newt before scribbling it down. Newt figured this "open" relationship was going to be strange if Thomas had to make a disclaimer like that. Still, he was part of that life now, Newt guessed. The life with comfy beds and shorts with 'juicy' on the back and more than one significant other. Maybe if Alby had someone else to blow off steam onto, things might not have been so bad for Newt. He doubted it.

"That's probably enough for now," Minho decided, moving his pen to the other side of the page. _Newt's_ _Rules_. "You don't have to think of them right now."

"Actually," Newt's voice came out smaller than he meant it and cleared his throat. "Can we make it a rule that I get to sleep in your bed every night?"

Minho and Thomas shared a look, and Newt realised he'd have to fight his cause. "I know there's a spare room and everything but the sound of your breathing and your arms around me really helped keep me sane last night."

Minho scoffed, joking. "How exactly are Thomas and I supposed to do the dirty dance with your shuck babyface staring at us? We are adults, y'know. I have needs, Newt."

Thomas gave him a playful slap over the head. "Write it down and stop telling our new friend about your needs."

Minho smirked and wrote  _Newt gets to cock-block every night_ on the rules. Newt half-wanted to retract the request, but Minho gave him a soft nudge in the ribs with his elbow, and he realised Minho was quite happy to share.

"Any more rules, _yobo_?" He asked, tapping the pen on the page.

"You should make a rule that Minho doesn't get to listen to show tunes at two in the morning, Newt," Thomas snorted. "Especially if you're going to be sleeping next to him from now on."

Minho tutted, shaking his head. "You love my show tunes, liar."

Thomas chuckled, cupping Minho's chin and pressing a short peck to his lips, smiley and only lasting half a second.

It occurred to Newt that that was the first time he'd ever seen them kiss. Properly, at least. He didn't know why it stuck out to him, but it did. He liked the way they kissed. Like it was easy, and just confirming what they already knew was there.

Newt bit his lip. He released it when something came to mind. He pulled in an inhale to speak but was interrupted.

"Minho!"

The three men's heads snapped up, towards the bedroom door.

Shit. That was Alby. Newt would know that roar anywhere.

"Minho, let me in! I know you have Newt in there!"

"That's Alby," Newt didn't know if he really had to point that out, but once he'd said it, panic bolted through him so fast he felt like his heart had stopped. Thomas and Minho shared a bold look.

"Newt, stay in here," Minho decided, tossing his notepad onto the bed behind him.

Newt didn't have to be told. Minho stood up and hurried out of the bedroom, and after a moment of deliberation, Thomas followed, but Newt stayed firmly behind the door, hidden out of sight.

He pressed himself against the door, watching from the small crack Thomas had left open.

Minho answered to Alby, who stormed past him and into the apartment like an angry dragon. Newt could swear he saw smoke come out of his nostrils. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but the look on his face was different. He was still angry, only now it was a sad anger, and his eyes were red and tired. It was obvious he'd been up all night. Newt wished that didn't tug at his heartstrings.

"Where is he?" Alby growled, his voice cracking. "I know he's here."

Minho shut the door while Thomas answered. "Alby, listen-"

"No," Alby snapped. "Newt, where are you?"

Newt saw his eyes flicker over the bedroom and he began to stomp over. Newt stumbled back and tripped over onto the bed, scrambling to get away from the door as it jumped open, and Alby's gaze landed on him. The blond slammed his back flush against the headboard, as far away from Alby as he could get.

Alby clambered forward across the bed, maybe his intentions were perfectly innocent, but Newt yelped, rolling off of the bed and burning his knees on the carpet. "Alby, don't you bloody touch me!"

Newt held himself up against the wall as Thomas hurried into the room and helped him to his feet. Minho stood between him and Alby, arms out at his sides in an attempt to calm down the atmosphere. Alby stood from the bed and stared hard-faced at Newt. His breathing was visible, his chest reaching in and out.

"Okay, okay!" Minho yelled. Newt felt bad for their neighbours. "Let's just calm down. Now. Alby, even though I would pull your intestines out of your mouth if I had the chance, I maintain the belief that it's not my fucking choice to make whether Newt decides to stay with us or moves back in with your ugly mug. How about we ask him without automatically assuming we know what he wants more than he does, hey?"

Maybe Minho said that because he knew Newt would want to stay with them, or maybe he was genuinely giving him a choice. Either way, Alby didn't want an answer yet.

He took a slow step forward, testing the waters, and when Newt didn't scream over-dramatically and try to escape out the window, he made a pleading face. "Newt. I just wanna hug you."

Newt wished he had sleeves to hold onto, but all he could do was shove his hands in his pockets. "My throat still hurts, Alby. I thought I was going to die."

Minho and Thomas suddenly weren't in the room. Newt wasn't even in a room anymore, he was in a light mush of colours, with Alby staring at him. "I'm so, so sorry. I can't believe I did that. All I want is for you to know that as long as I live, I will never, ever let that happen again."

Newt looked at the floor, pulled his hands out of his pockets and made his way toward Alby to hold him. He slipped the palms of his hands onto Alby's waist, and pressed his head against his shoulder, staring at the world through tears. He could vaguely see a shape that looked like Minho look at a shape that looked like Thomas, and that's when he closed his eyes.

"I love you, bear," he whispered, a tear tickling his cheek as it trickled along his skin. He felt the warmth of Alby around him deep in his bones and realised Minho's hold around him the night before was just as good. He turned his head to bury his face in Alby's neck. "I'll still come to meetings. We'll still see each other. And if I start to feel a little better, we can try this again. This isn't the end, I just need a break."

Alby clutched tight onto him, and although he'd done that to Newt a million times before, it scared him a little bit this time. He couldn't help feeling suffocated, trapped in his arms. He pulled back and pressed his lips against Alby's, savouring one last coffee-flavoured kiss before pulling away from him and holding his hands to keep them from getting tight around his body.

Alby nodded at him, saddened, but understanding. He kissed Newt's forehead gently and whispered against his skull. "I'll wait. Just come back to me."

Newt stepped back, letting Thomas and Minho's eyes on him fully process. He was back in the room, tears blinked away, and colours focused into shapes, and shapes became objects. "I'll be at the NA meeting tomorrow morning."

Alby breathed in deeply, nodding again. "I need to do a risk assessment if you're planning to stay-"

Newt shook his head. "Alby. Just go."

Minho stepped forward, ready to kick him out, but Alby held his hands up in surrender. "I'm leaving. I'm gone."

The second he shut the apartment door behind him, reality seeped in that he really was gone.

"At least for now," Newt mumbled to himself, reaching into his pocket for his drugs.

Thomas and Minho shared yet another look of theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a sneak peek into my Writing Technique (patent pending): I write a chapter, don't post it, write the next chapter, then post the first one and repeat. I just wanted to share that because it's been kinda helpful to me cause I can go back and edit minor details, AND because I don't feel overwhelmed with having to hurry up a chapter to post it, cause if I'm running late I can post the chapter and buy myself some extra time for the next one. I wrote 'cause' a lot in that sentence. I hope it made sense anyhow.  
> Another thing: this is not the last we're seeing of Alby, even though this chapter probably gave off the vibe that things would be changing with him now.  
> Thanks for reading,  
> Leave love :)


	8. Twenty-One

As a choreographer, Minho had a habit of focusing on bodies. If his weight was slipping, he had to push himself until he was as heavy as he needed to be. It wasn't something he even considered a goal anymore. It was just a rule. He had to stay a certain weight.

Watching Newt eat breakfast made Minho want to run to the gym. He didn't mean to be judgemental, and the last thing he was going to do was to comment on a heroin addict's body but ever since the first time Minho saw Newt's frail, bony stature, it continued to shock him. If Newt was one of Minho's dancers, Minho would have to suspend him until he could put on a couple pounds.

He sat at the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal, staring into the milk. Minho sat opposite him; he'd gotten changed while Thomas was making coffee, but now Thomas was in the shower, humming songs he'd heard Minho practising his routines along to.

"How are you feeling?" Minho asked, cupping his coffee mug in his palms, letting the heat seep into his fingertips and soothe him.

Newt poked at his cereal with his spoon, his eyes down and his shoulders slumped. "I feel better than I did earlier."

Something told Minho there was a 'but' chasing that sentence, but Newt didn't seem to want to continue. Minho took a sip of his coffee and let the heat warm his throat. He waited a moment before asking. "Newt, you're not really thinking of getting back with Alby someday, are you?"

Newt glanced up at him with stern eyes. "Don't do that, Minho."

Minho frowned, setting his coffee mug aside. "Do what?"

"That," Newt repeated, waving his hand in Minho's direction. "That look, that tone of voice. I know you don't understand. You wouldn't. You've got Thomas."

Minho crossed his arms over his chest, matching Newt's irritability with his own. "I'm not giving you any look. And of course I don't understand, Alby stormed in here about to make a grab for you, and you decided you wanted to give him another chance. I-"

He stopped himself because Newt's head dropped back down to stare at his breakfast, and Minho realised he wasn't fixing anything by upsetting Newt.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Minho decided it was getting too awkward. "You still have your drugs?"

Newt nodded and raised his eyes, checking Minho's face. Minho gave him a sad smile to make him feel better, before reluctantly asking, "Are you thinking of...?"

"No," Newt replied. "But I'm going to keep it."

Minho forced himself to nod and suddenly was desperate for another subject change. "Thomas has to go to work today, and I need to go shopping to get stuff for beer and pizza night later. Why don't you come with me? You need to help me with buying food you like anyway, and I know you're out of cigarettes."

Newt's eyes lit up as if he was desperately glad to have something to do. "Alright. Should be good for me to stay busy."

Minho smiled and sipped his coffee again, only to be shocked into choking on it when someone wrapped their arms around him from behind. He slammed his mug on the counter and spluttered until his throat didn't feel so full, all while Thomas pressed his damp face against Minho's cheek.

"Good morning, Mr Minho Park, how are we today?" Thomas asked, muffled against his fiance's face. Minho raised an eyebrow, giving Newt a smirk.

"We've been awake for three hours,  _ja gi_ ," he countered, and Thomas squeezed his waist, pressing a sloppy kiss on his jaw.

"Maybe so, Minho," he replied as Minho slipped his fingers between Thomas's to hold them on his torso. "But the day doesn't start until I've gotten a big fat 'good morning' kiss from the man I asked to marry me."

Minho chuckled, twisting around in his arms to give him a nice grin of mischief. "For my money, obviously."

"Oh, of course," Thomas smirked, holding Minho's jaw to hold him still for a kiss. "You know I'm only in it for your riches and those biceps," he murmured into Minho's lips.

Minho laughed, pulling back from Thomas's face before he forgot Newt was there and started saying stuff he would not want to hear. Or maybe he would want to hear it.

 _Tut tut_. Newt was not Brenda. He was cute and modest and, as of yet, hadn't shown any signs of wanting to join in on his and Thomas's fun.

Minho sent a smile his way, watching Newt's eyes watching them back. Thomas gave him one last kiss, then let go of him and hopped over to Newt's side of the counter, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "I'm going to be late for work if I hang around and smile at you people any longer. I'll see you later for beer and pizza."

He pulled Newt in and kissed his hair, grinning as he swaggered to the door and happily swung it open.

When it slammed behind him, Minho turned to Newt. "Ten bucks he jerked off in the shower."

***

Minho had almost forgotten that Newt couldn't drink, he was piling six-packs of beer into his shopping cart like he was trying to open up his own store. Newt eyed them, his mouth twitching like he had something to say that he didn't quite know how to get out of his brain. When Minho remembered, he considered the dilemma for a moment, then put the beer back on the shelves and replaced it with cans of various sodas. The group could live without beer just this once.

As Minho loaded paper bags into the trunk of his car, refusing to let Newt help, the blond pointed out that he had no clothes. When Minho pointed out the clothes place between a grocery store and a hardware shop, Newt reminded him that he had no money.

"Newt, don't be dumb, I'm buying," Minho scoffed, slamming the trunk shut. Newt made a face as he followed Minho towards the store.

"Someday you'll have to stop giving me so many freebies," he said, and Minho tutted and opened the shop door, waiting for Newt to step in first.

"That day, I'll rejoice," he said sarcastically, nodding his head to get Newt through the door. "But for now, I have money, you're broke. Stop protesting and let people be nice to you."

Newt gave him a half-jokey glare and entered the shop. It was small with mostly floral dresses that looked fit for old women, Minho thought it might be a charity clothes store. But it was good enough for Newt, who trudged over to an assortment of t-shirts and jumpers on a rack and began to leaf through them. Minho joined him, although he left the picking-out-clothes-for-Newt to the blond, even though he really didn't seem to care much about fashion. He picked up any shirt in his size and bent it over his forearm like a butler with a napkin.

There were some undies left of the shirts, but Minho pretended to be distracted by one of the floral dresses while Newt picked some of those up.

Absently, when Newt turned to pick out trousers, Minho murmured, "I bet Teresa would wear that."

It was true, it seemed like something Teresa would wear. She'd modify it beyond recognition, but Minho could bet she'd love the pattern.

Newt's eyes perked up slightly as if he was a dog who'd just heard his own name. "Teresa?"

Minho nodded, checking the price on the tag hanging off of the dress. "Yeah. Thomas's girlfriend. You'll meet her tonight, actually."

“Do you like her?” Newt asked. Minho wasn't expecting it, but he wasn't completely surprised by the question either. It seemed like Newt had wanted to ask questions about their relationship for ages.

“Yeah. She’s cool,” he smiled. “Nice, funny. Great in bed, according to Thomas.”

Newt narrowed his eyes at Minho, curious. Man, he really wasn't going to drop this. “Does that not intimidate you?”

Minho paused. He pulled the dress off of the hanger and put it on Newt's building pile of clothes on his arm. “Look, Newt,” he said. “I love Thomas. He loves me back. He loves Teresa too. And Brenda. Whatever his relationships with those two give him, that’s not my business. Maybe Teresa's nicer and Brenda's funnier and they're both way better in bed than me, but that doesn’t mean Thomas loves me any less. You can love chocolate fudge as much as cookie dough because they’re both great for different reasons. The reasons Thomas loves me are different from what he sees in Teresa, but that doesn’t mean my reasons aren’t valid. D’you understand?”

Newt frowned at him like he understood but didn't approve. “I just don’t understand why you’d want to have an open relationship anyway. Isn’t the whole point of loving someone to devote everything you have to that one person?”

Minho sighed. He couldn't help getting a tiny bit irritated. It wasn't Newt's fault, he just didn't like feeling as though Newt was judging him. “Newt, who’s your favourite out of Thomas and I? If, at the end of today, I turn around and tell you ‘Alright, Newt, now who would you like to see again? Me or Thomas?’, who would you pick?”

Newt gave him a bitter face. “I can’t pick between you two.”

“Exactly.” Minho took his hand, giving him a serious look. “If you pick me, you’ll still like Thomas, and if you pick Thomas, you’ll still like me, right?”

There was a pause, then Newt's face broke into a huge smirk. "Who says I like you?"

Minho rolled his eyes and dropped his hand. "You know what I mean."

Newt pulled a pair of jeans up, still smirking. "Wow, Minho. I've only just broken up with my boyfriend. A little bloody presumptuous of you, don't ya think?"

"So..." Minho bit his lip. He liked seeing Newt all grins like this. He really didn't want to bring down the atmosphere. "It really was a break-up, you and Alby?"

Newt's smirk dropped. It was almost an answer the way he didn't answer, he just turned around and walked over to the counter. Minho decided not to press him any further.

In fact, he immediately thought of something to distract Newt.

When they reached their destination, Minho gave him a bright smile as he pushed the car door open, watching Newt copy him on the other side of the car. Newt got out of the car, and stared at the shop, while Minho smiled and stretched his bones, happy to be back in the fresh air.

Minho grabbed Newt’s hand, giving him a comforting smile as they strolled towards the open garage door of the mechanic shop. He could hear the loud screech of an electric saw against metal, but it was somewhere deeper in the shop, and usually Ben was around the front, under a car. He was definitely here, no one else would have left the door open this long, cause Ben liked to work in open spaces. Besides, what other mechanic listened to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack for fun over the sound of cars being crushed and taken apart for spare parts than one who’d come in contact with Minho’s taste?

Newt’s eyebrows furrowed confusedly, and Minho gave him a smirk, pulling on his shirt to bring him deeper into the shop.

“Benny?” Minho called over the sound of the music. He spotted the stereo in the back of the room and wondered if he could get away with turning the song up just a little bit.

Newt gulped, turned around to analyse some of the posters on the wall. Mainly car things, and a flyer for Minho’s club. Minho sighed. How on earth did he fall in love with a mechanic?

He felt a hand grab his, and suddenly he was being twirled into a warm body dressed in a filthy blue jumpsuit. Minho jumped, laughing when his gaze met Ben’s eyes, and he remembered; oh, that was how on earth he fell in love with a mechanic.

Ben let go of his hand, and stood behind him, rolled his body into Minho’s to the beat, grinning. “Show off some of those moves of yours, Minho. It’s been way too long.”

Minho laughed, grinding back against him, vaguely aware he was stealing moves from his Saturday routine down at the club. Ben moved with him, pulling him close, and Minho wondered how obvious it was that the only dance move Ben knew was ‘grind’. He did it too well, though.

The song slipped into its ending, and Ben cheered, twisting Minho around to pull him into a short kiss on the lips. Minho smirked at him, holding onto the collar of his jumpsuit to keep him close. “You’re covered in car juices.”

Ben snorted, his nose brushing against Minho’s. “Car juices?”

Minho rolled his eyes. “Oil, then. Whatever. You’re filthy.”

“Yeah, I am,” Ben mumbled, suggestive, as he pulled Minho closer, into a laugh-kiss. Minho knew he would have to let go of him eventually, and sighed as he held Ben’s hand and stepped backwards, looking over to Newt.

Newt put on an obviously fake smile, and held out his hand, but not extending it fully, like he wasn’t sure. "Hi. I’m Newt. Nice to meet you.”

Ben’s eyebrows twitched, his head shooting to his side, to Minho. Minho knew what he was thinking. Under this light, Newt looked like he could be thirteen. Minho leant into his boyfriend, trying not to move his lips much when he whispered, “Twenty-one.”

He pulled back, and Ben had donned a smile and extended his stained arm out to Newt. “Nice to meet you, I’m Ben. What can I help you with?”

Newt’s smile dwindled, and Minho tugged gently on Ben’s hand, forcing a fresh, casual smile. “Remember a couple of days ago, that black, overweight, 30-year-old drug addict I was telling you about?” Ben nodded, and Minho gestured to Newt. “This is…he.”

Ben’s face dropped, his eyes darting around Newt’s frame. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Minho couldn’t stand how jumpy Newt suddenly became, pulling his hoodie sleeves over his knuckles nervously.

Minho nudged his boyfriend, bringing him closer to take him out of microscope mode. “Listen, Benny, don’t get mad, but…Newt is sorta moving in with Thomas and me.”

Ben’s face fell, his head dropping back as he groaned to the ceiling. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Minho tried not to laugh at him. He’d been begging to move in with Minho for months because his own apartment was slowly crumbling into an episode of Hoarders waiting to happen, but Minho had refused to let him because Ben didn’t want to get rid of any of the stuff he was complaining was taking up too much space.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Minho said, letting go of his hand to wrap his arm around his waist. “But trust me, Newt needs it more than you.”

Ben crossed his arms, looking the blond up and down suspiciously. The other blond. “How much more? Give me a percentage.”

Minho gave him a look that he hoped told him he meant it when he said ‘trust me’. “Ben, a hundred percent.”

Ben made a face, mainly a confused one, but Minho’s eyes told him to back off of the topic. Thankfully, Ben did as was instructed. He sighed and gave Newt a sorry smile. “Sorry, man. Sometimes I forget people have worse problems than boxes of useless junk filling up their kitchen.”

Newt’s face gave in to a small smile. “My dad was like that. He used to collect model cars, we’d find them like glitter everywhere.”

Ben laughed, pointing to Newt, buddying up with him already. Minho smiled at that. “D’you like cars? I could give you a tour ‘round the back of the shop if you want. You should see the sexy beasts back there.”

Minho rolled his eyes, letting out a deep breath of anguish. “Oh, great. The ‘sexy beasts’ speech again.”

Ben wrapped an arm around his waist. "No need to get jealous, Minho. You know you're the sexiest."

Minho smirked proudly, and Newt shook his head, chuckling quietly. “Sorry, my dad’s unhealthy obsession put me off cars for the rest of my life.”

“Understandable,” Ben nodded, smiling fondly. “I still can’t listen to The Rolling Stones without thinking of my dad and his infamous mid-life crisis.”

Newt laughed at that, and Minho couldn’t help feeling good about this. This could be the start of something. This could be really good.

"I just wanted to stop in on our way home," Minho smiled, flirt-punching Ben's bicep. "See you at beer and pizza night tonight?"

Ben grinned, leaning in for a kiss. "Wouldn't miss it. Nice to meet you, Newt."

Newt smiled at him.

Minho liked the look of that smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, sorry it’s been a while! I’ve been Busy As Hell these past few days, I promise the next one won’t take too long!!  
> Thanks for reading,  
> Leave love!


	9. Beer And Pizza Night

"So, what's beer and pizza night?" Newt asked as he helped Minho set out bowls of crisps and chocolate snacks on the coffee table. Truth be told, the question should have come earlier, but when they got to the apartment, Newt wanted to try on his new clothes, and unpack them all into the closet and drawers in the spare bedroom. Then after that, he showered, then spent the entire afternoon catching up on the sleep he'd missed the night before. And after that, he wasted an hour trying to pick out an outfit that would make him look older to Tommy and Minho's friends. More than friends. What was he supposed to call them?

Minho ripped into the wrapping on the cans of soda, flexing his arm muscles, and set them on the table. "It's a thing we all have. Every Friday, we meet up here and watch movies and catch up and whatever else there is to do. We usually see each other during the week, too, but it's nice to have a fixed occasion in case we've been too busy. Like this week."

Newt picked up a crisp and tossed it into his mouth. "You haven't seen each other all week?"

Minho looked up, grabbing a different brand of soda and interspersing that with the other type. "Oh, yeah. Monday, we all got Chinese food, and the night we met you, Ben and Thomas had come to see Teresa, Brenda and me at the club. Usually, we see each other a lot more. I mean, Brenda and Teresa only live upstairs. We told them to back off for a while when we decided we were going to ask you to move in, in case you said yes and we wanted you to settle in. Most of the time they let themselves in like cockroaches. You'll walk in and they'll just be there, watching a movie or stealing our food, or going at it on the couch."

Newt pretended he hadn't heard that last bit. "You told them to back off?"

"Well, yeah," Minho shrugged, checking Newt's face. "The last thing we needed was for those two to sneak in while you were alone in the apartment."

"But I live here now," Newt replied with a frown. "I want the real deal. I want to be woken up with tickles and get annoyed at you listening to show tunes at 2 am. C'mon, don't hold back."

Minho smirked. "Just lookin' out for ya, Newtie. The lot of us can be a bit much."

Newt rolled his eyes, eating another crisp. "Minho, I'm moving out of a rehabilitation centre and into a clean apartment with windows and nice roommates. If things are changing, I want them to change fully. I want to get to know this new life of mine, I can't do that if you're not giving me the real thing. It's bloody patronising."

Minho grinned, his cheeks a happy rose colour. "Alright, _yobo_.New rule: no soft-balling Newt. Any further requests?"

Newt couldn't help a smile. He shook his head, and Minho gave him a pleased look, then skipped over to the bedroom yelling something about getting dressed.

Minho was still in the bedroom when there was a knock at the door, but luckily he had heard it and skidded out to the living room before Newt could open it. Good thing too, because Newt had no idea what he was supposed to say to Thomas's girlfriends, and/or Minho's boyfriend.

It was a pair of girls at the door, with huge smiles. One of them was a brunette with striking blue eyes and her hair all done up prettily, and her girlfriend was another brunette wearing a beanie and a leather jacket, holding a DVD box under her arm.

Their eyes shot to Newt right away, who stood a few metres behind Minho. Minho stepped aside to let them in, then pointed over at Newt. "This is Newt, the guy we told you about. Newt, this is Teresa," the girl with blue eyes, "And Brenda." The one with the hat.

Brenda walked in first, grabbing Newt by the shoulders and kissing his cheek with a smile. "Nice to meet you. I'm the pretty one."

Her hat was promptly yanked off of her head by Teresa, who rolled her eyes with a huge grin. "Don't listen to Brenda, Newt. Minho's the pretty one."

Newt smirked, glancing at Minho, who blew the blue-eyed girl a kiss and batted his eyelashes. Brenda snatched her hat back and shoved it over her head. She gave Newt a smile, then her gaze shifted to the coffee table, and she ogled the cans of soda. "No beer? How are we supposed to have beer and pizza without-?"

Teresa elbowed her in the rib, sending an apologetic smile Newt's way.

Newt frowned uneasily. He could just guess the first thing Thomas and Minho told them about him.

Minho sent Newt a re-assuring smile and shut the door, only to have it swing open behind him.

“Hey, the whole gang’s here,” Thomas exclaimed, walking over to the coffee table with three boxes of pizza, followed promptly by a blond-haired man in a tank top - Ben.

Minho gave Thomas a kiss on his way in, then went and kissed Ben too. Newt didn't know why he wasn't expecting that. Thomas handed Ben the pizza, then wrapped his arms around the girls, one on Teresa's shoulders and the other on Brenda's waist.

Newt blushed, keeping his eyes on the floor because suddenly he was painfully aware that he was the only one without a date. Probably a good thing too - Alby would hate this.

Teresa broke from Thomas’s lips and collapsed onto the couch. Behind her, she pulled strands of hair into a loose ponytail, which she let swing at the back of her head once she’d finished securing it. Newt looked at Thomas, who gave him a warm smile as a hello, before sitting next to Teresa on the couch.

Teresa's eyes found Newt, and she gave him a definitely non-genuine smile. Newt knew that look. It was an excuse to look at him.

She definitely knew about Newt’s addiction. Her eyes were searching him as if for proof he was as bad as everyone said he was. “A disaster”. Or maybe she was looking for a ticket that meant he deserved to be there, with those people, drinking soda and eating pizza and not sitting in a halfway house pulling secret stashes of drugs from hiding places he didn’t even want to think about. Yeah. Teresa wanted a golden ticket. An acceptance letter. Some kind of VIP pass that meant he was allowed to have a fun night with real-life, “Real Life” people.

Or maybe she wasn’t doing that at all and Newt was reading way too far into an attempt at a smile. He’d made all this up in his head. It was probably what Alby would tell him during group meetings. “You don’t feel like you deserve to be here, so you don’t think anyone else thinks you deserve to be here.”

Sometimes, Newt hated hearing Alby’s voice in his head. But on this occasion, it made him feel a little better.

He was about to say something that might sound like conversation starter when Brenda jumped over the back of the couch, between Thomas and Teresa, with a soda can in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other. “Boyfriend, tell your boyfriend to sit down and stop staring at the girlfriend.”

Newt bit his lip, his gaze immediately shooting to the floor. He vaguely heard Thomas laugh, then tell him to sit, and was more than happy to do as he was told. Minho had pulled a bean bag out of god knows where and some chairs from the dining table, so Newt collapsed onto the bag, sighing, pretending to relax.

Ben and Minho brought the pizza boxes over and set them on the coffee table. Newt grabbed a lemonade, and some pepperoni that he didn’t think he’d actually eat, and nervously rubbed his feet together, admittedly feeling a little, no, a lot out of place. He wasn’t part of this family they all had with each other. It was like he was the ultimate third-wheel.

Thomas held Brenda’s waist, with his other hand he held a solo cup. Teresa had grabbed a slice of pizza, while Ben sat on the floor against the couch, Brenda’s legs resting on his shoulders, her boots on the table. Newt got the impression they were good friends. Minho nudged Newt to move up, and sat next to him on the bean bag, with a smile.

”What'd'ya think?” Minho winked, nodding at the four people they were facing. Newt shrugged, pretending not to have an opinion. In all honesty, he liked these people so far.

“How’s your leg, babe?” Teresa asked Brenda before she took a swig from Thomas’s cup. Brenda shrugged as she handed it back.

“Better. Harriet gave me some painkillers and a bandage,” she answered as she leant forward and pulled her jeans up to show a bruise the size of Scotland on the side of her leg, accidentally kicking Ben’s cheek lightly. She looked at Newt, then skipped her eyes to Minho. “If the swelling goes down, we should be able to cover it up with make-up by tomorrow. If not, Tee can take my spot in Bad Habit and I’ll rip holes in Dante’s Womanizer sweatpants and try to see if I can find a bra to sex up my top half for Bills. Good, no? I thought of everything.”

Oh, she must be a dancer like Minho.

Minho raised his eyebrow. “But can you dance?”

Brenda’s eyes turned cold. “Minho, you got struck by lightning and that same night you went out and danced our fastest routine because Sal trapped his thumb in a door. I’ll be fine.”

Minho was struck by lightning? Minho laughed with her, as Newt chewed his lip, staring at the bruise. “What did you do?” He asked, somehow.

Brenda looked at him, her smile falling slightly. “I was in a rush and accidentally kicked the doorframe trying to get into work. What about you?”

Newt’s face dropped. “What?”

“I wasn't imagining that limp, was I?” Brenda replied, with an oblivious smile. “What happened?”

Newt felt his breath shallow slightly, as he glanced at Minho, who gave him an expectant look.

“I…I, um, I fell” – jumped – “off my roof” – balcony – “when I was sixteen,” Newt lied. He tried his best to change his train of thought and thanked the Lord almighty that Minho put one of his strong arms around him.

“I did that,” Teresa admitted, with a half-sad smile. “My dad was trying to teach me how to fix the satellite. Never again was I allowed to climb a ladder.”

Newt grinned as he watched her take a sip from a drink Ben handed her off the table. Thomas reached behind Brenda and rested his arm on her shoulders. “Is that where you got that scar on your back from?”

“No,” Teresa answered with an amused smile. “I fell on my front. That’s from the time your little brother threw a toy car at me.”

Thomas giggled, but Ben rolled his eyes. “You have one single scar on your entire body, Tee? I’m covered.”

“Yes, but you’re a mechanic,” Minho countered, with a grin at his boyfriend. “It’s a work hazard.”

Brenda chimed in. “Excuse me, I have, like, a hundred more scars than you do.”

Newt scoffed by accident.

Brenda's gaze shot to him, a smirk growing on her face. “Show me what you got.”

Newt sighed, pulled his sleeves and trouser legs up to show them his track marks from where he’d injected into one spot too much. He gave Brenda a look that said ‘top that’, while she gave him a proud grin. “Stretch marks, Newtie. I win.”

He smirked. “Aha! I have those too!”

He didn’t expect to be that proud of himself.

Ben chortled, choking on his lemonade. “You do, matchstick man?”

Newt looked over at him, fake glaring. “I’m thin but I’m tall too. Growth spurts.”

“Well, maybe I still have more than you,” Brenda pointed out. “My dad’s an immigrant, he had to do all the dangerous, injury-prone jobs no one else wanted and when I was old enough, I had to do my share.”

Newt hummed, though Brenda probably couldn’t hear him over the chatter everyone else had burst into. That was a good segue into answering his questions. “So, what do you do now?”

Brenda smiled, glancing at Teresa. “Teresa and I are strippers. Minho’s our choreographer.”

Newt had suspected something like that. He was surprised about Minho though. Newt knew he danced but...a choreographer? At a strip club, no less? Truth be told, the more Newt thought about it, the less surprised he was.

“But it’s dangerous, though, right?” Newt asked to keep the conversation flowing, taking a chunk out of the pepperoni pizza he was awkwardly holding in his hand.

Brenda smiled and nodded her head to Minho. “Used to be. Then some guy followed Teresa home one night and Minho made the boss make a bunch of policies to be sure we’re safe. And after that, he forced the boss to actually give us wages so we weren’t just living off of tips. Our boys are good-uns.”

She pulled her legs off Ben’s shoulders and stood up. “Bathroom break, be back in a minute.”

Newt bit his lip, watching as she hopped over Teresa’s feet and skipped over to the bathroom. He felt awkward now, everyone else was already wrapped into their own conversations. He sat back, and quietly nibbled on his pizza, only just noticing Minho’s palm on his back, his thumb rubbing itself over a bump on his spine. A slow, tender touch. Thoughtless to Minho, but for some reason, it wouldn’t leave the front of Newt’s mind. He didn’t want to breathe, in case Minho noticed and stopped himself. He didn’t get soft moments like this ever at home. Alby was always so tough, even when he didn’t mean to be. Hugs would be tight, kisses were never passionate, trying to cuddle with Alby felt like it was just annoying to him. And the two of them never held hands or stared lovingly into each other’s eyes, or put their arms around each other casually.

Newt heard everyone laugh, and gasped slightly, shaking himself out of his daze.

“And sex. Lots of sex. And alcohol.” Ben chuckled, he’d crawled over and sat next to Minho, the Korean’s other arm around him. Minho giggled into his boyfriend’s mouth, the arm around Newt stopping, and pulling back to hold Ben’s tank top’s sleeve, pulling him close.

“Yes, lots,” he laughed, his back hitting Newt’s shoulder gently. Newt frowned, looking up at the other three to see if they’d give him a clue about what they were talking about.

“I just want something calm,” Thomas was telling Teresa. “Even just a movie night sounds amazing, don’t go out of your way. And absolutely no making Dante come over and give me a lap dance like my birthday last year.”

“You loved that!” Teresa argued. Thomas tutted.

“You got me wasted, I thought he was Minho,” he countered, giving them both looks of warning. “Don’t do it.”

Minho was still leaning on Newt, the blond could hear the wetness of his lips on Ben's, and reached into his pocket to pull out his brand new box of cigarettes, and the lighter he stole from Winston back the house.

He lit the cigarette and took a drag from it, as Minho pushed Ben back and away, grinning, and twisted himself to lean against his chest like a Ben-sized pillow.

Newt bit his lip, the group’s laughter echoing around his head like some scene from a movie.

Newt thought about the house. The smell of cigarettes and mould, the howl of people going through withdrawal, the laughter and anger and upset of people who didn’t know what to do with themselves now that they weren’t shooting up. That grey tone of every wall in the house.

It was familiar. Recognisable. He knew all the men in that house. He knew which rooms were for crying in and which rooms to sleep in and which rooms he wasn’t allowed into without permission. He knew the routines and the schedules and the mottos. He knew what to say and what not to.

This out of place feeling revealed itself as homesickness. This odd new life had come so suddenly, and so intensely, and Newt was spinning such a complex web around himself with all these new rules and people’s names to remember.

He was so far from home, so far from what he thought he knew, and now he felt lost and uncomfortable. Even if he went home, Alby would be there. And what Alby had done to him was irreparable. Newt would forgive him, of course. He loved him. But things would be different now.

He just wanted to be back at home getting yelled at for not eating enough. Or laying next to Alby, listening to his heartbeat through his shirt. Or laughing with Fry and Winston and Zart about something on TV. That was what he knew.

Newt suddenly felt this overwhelming urge to use. Maybe everything else familiar was dead and gone but there was one thing he could always come back to, to feel home again.

"You got a spare?" Brenda asked, sitting herself down next to him. Newt nodded, pulling the second cig out of his box, and handing it to Brenda. She smiled, shoving it between her lips, and Newt sparked his lighter to ignite the tip.

She took a drag, then, with smoke pouring from her mouth, she asked, “So, what are you?”

Newt furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

Brenda shrugged. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t something to at least one of us. What are you? Minho’s boyfriend? Or Thomas’s, or what?”

Newt frowned, shaking his head. “I’m not...I’m not anything. I’m just their flatmate. I think.”

Brenda looked confused for a moment, then nodded. “Oh. Tom made it sound like...” she stopped herself. “Y’know what? I probably read it wrong. Tone can come off way wrong through texts.”

Newt half wanted to ask, but Brenda seemed to be sure she’d just read it wrong.

Still, did Tommy think this was...something? Did Minho? Was it Newt who was reading it all wrong?

Alby would tell him he was overthinking. He was probably right.

”So, you’re with Tommy, aren’t you?” Newt asked. Brenda smiled.

”Yeah, and Teresa,” she said, looking over at the couple on the couch chatting.

Newt narrowed his eyes. “So...Minho and Ben, they’re just your friends?”

Brenda turned to him, pulling her cigarette out of her mouth. “Kinda. It’s complicated. I guess they’re more like domestic partners. Y’know?”

Newt shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. “No, what do you mean?”

The girl shuffled on the bean bag to get comfortable, sighing. “Well, it’s like we’re the opposite of friends with benefits. We’re all dating each other but some of us don’t give each other benefits. Like me, Minho and Ben. They’re like my boyfriends down to the way we feel about each other, but we don’t have sex because that’s not what we want from each other.”

Newt hummed and took a drink of his soda. He could see that, the closeness between everyone.

Brenda was quiet for a moment, then she leant in, to whisper-talk, “Listen, Newt, I know it’s none of my business, but Minho and Tom are really good guys. I know Tom’s scared because he’s worried you’ll end up like his dad. But he still cares about you, and that means the rest of us do too. So, if you ever need a place to stop and re-evaluate, Teresa and I are in the apartment directly upstairs.”

Newt lowered his eyes, somewhat guilty. Thomas’s dad was an addict. Newt didn’t know the story, but that never ended well. This must be hard for Thomas. He looked away, mumbling, “Thanks, Brenda.”

She gave him a smile.

Teresa sat down next to her, and asked him directly, "You know what we do. Do you have a job?" 

Newt shook his head with a simper. "Haven't really needed one until now."

Brenda clicked her tongue, giving him a sad smile. “Sucks. Maybe you could get a job at the club, I'm sure Minho could write you a recommendation. Can youdance?”

Ben snorted, his lips wet with his soda. “Don’t answer that, Minho will make you prove it whether you say you can or you can’t.”

Newt smirked and looked at the guy sitting next to him, who rolled his eyes. “Well, you wouldn’t let someone paint a mural unless they proved they could paint, would you?”

Everyone paused, except Newt, who's smirk fell. He missed painting. Alby bought him a sketchbook and some pencils when he moved in, to apologise for not letting him bring his paints because it would be too messy, but it wasn’t the same. Newt didn’t disobey, though. Some people might be tempted to huff it, and that wasn’t fair to them.

Newt heard someone chortle, and everyone else joined in, laughing at Minho, who eventually followed suit. “What has that got to do with anything?” Ben giggled.

“Quick!” Teresa chuckled. “Someone put some music on and Minho can dance us a mural.”

Newt grinned as Minho flipped her the bird, a smirk forcing its way onto his face. He saw Thomas stand up and walk away out of the corner of his eye, and looked at his girlfriends, who were too concerned with the joke to notice. Brenda had found a plate for her pizza somewhere and had set it in her lap, along with the can of soda which she’d shoved between her legs to keep upright.

“I think the real question here, though, is, _can_ Newt dance?” Teresa asked, her eyes narrow, taunting Newt.

The blond scoffed. “You’d have to get me three shades of wasted, so lucky for me, it’s not happening.”

Brenda blew a raspberry, while Teresa booed him enthusiastically. “Newt, you’re no fun,” Ben informed him, shaking his head in feigned disappointment.

Newt shrugged, taking a sip of his soda to seem casual. “I can’t dance and three of you are professional dancers. I’d have to be insane or completely shameless, and that’s not me.”

Everyone groaned at him, even Minho, who began to tut. Newt just gave them an apologetic look and sighed. He was about to take another sip, and Brenda was just about to say something that sounded like it would be a suggestion, when music quietly faded in from the kitchen, getting louder and louder until everyone could hear it, and they had to shout their whoops over it.

Newt pulled his can from his lips and looked over to Thomas, who gave him a huge, mischievous grin and an innocent shrug.

The song the bastard had put on? London Bridge by Fergie.

Fucker.

Newt scowled and made a pained look as Minho grabbed his hand, managing to pull his light frame up even with Newt’s struggling. Brenda had jumped onto the coffee table, holding her soda can tight in her hands as she danced. Sexy dancing and all. If Newt hadn’t known she was a stripper before, he sure knew now. Teresa was cheering her on, watching Ben climb onto the table with her to dance against her, all grindy and flirty-like until Thomas asked her to dance.

Newt winced, as Minho held his hand, moving his head and feet to the beat and gave him a smile meant to motivate the blond to do the same.

“I don’t dance, Minho,” Newt sighed, as Minho pulled him closer and held his hips.

“Yeah, but there's music playing,” Minho replied. Newt frowned at him.

Minho rolled his eyes and pulled Newt close enough that at first Newt thought he was going to kiss him. “Newt, just move your hips. Not hard.”

Newt scoffed, shaking his head, but Minho moved, and it was getting awkward just standing still. He sighed and frowned as he began to sway his hips the way Minho was doing it. Minho giggled and began to put more gusto into his movements. “There we go. You’re good.”

He let go of Newt’s hips and began to properly move against him, as Newt started to get into it, holding Minho’s waist, way too low for a guy with a fiancé and a boyfriend. Minho grinned as Newt moved with him, touching his back like they were slow dancing.

Newt glanced behind him, a shiver spiking all the way down his spine when he felt someone’s hand pull on his shirt, snatching him out of Minho’s hold, and twisting him into his or her own. Brenda giggled at him, grabbing his hands to dance with him. “You don’t dance, Newt? _Really_?”

Newt chuckled as she raised their hands above his head and spun herself around, slow-dance style. She laughed. “With an ass like that, you could totally get a job at the club.”

"Would you be into that?" Teresa asked, in all seriousness, as she held Thomas's arms around his hips to stop him dancing. Newt looked up at her, glancing at Thomas uneasily.

"I'm really not a dancer," he said, and Minho cut in.

"You wouldn't have to dance," he explained. "Wear tight clothes, get shirtless once in a while and wait tables. You could work the same hours as me, it's actually kind of perfect since I'll be there to keep an eye on you. Plus, you have to start chipping in with rent someday."

Newt raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll wait tables until my hands are bloody stumps, sure, but no one wants to see me shirtless."

Ben and Brenda both threw their hands in the air. "I do!"

Newt pushed his eyes to Minho, with a frown. "You've seen. You can't put my body in a strip club, it'll depress everyone."

The group was quiet for a moment, including Minho, who bit down on his bottom lip, considering Newt's torso thoughtfully. Newt could see a million things he knew he couldn't say out loud whirring through his head. Newt would put down money they were the same things Alby had said to him a million times.

Thomas was the one to break the silence. "You're hired."

Newt turned to him. "Tommy-"

Thomas simply shook his head, like he wouldn't stand for any excuses. "If you don't want to take your clothes off, no one's going to make you. But holy shit, Newt, you're hot. Seriously. And if some creep secretly playing with his balls at the club doesn't get a boner over you, that's his problem. That's exactly what I said to Harriet when she said she was getting too fat to strip, and that's exactly what I'm saying to you now."

Newt didn't say anything, his eyes sad but some form of 'flattered' stirring in his stomach. It had been a while since someone had told him he was hot.

"He's right," Minho decided. "You need a job, and you're not bailing because you think you're not hot enough. I'm not allowing it."

Newt scratched the back of his neck, not able to decipher the butterflies from the moths in his stomach. The idea of getting a job sounded so unbelievably exciting. A step closer to normal life. "Are you sure?"

Brenda kissed his cheek, with a grin. "Looking forward to working with you, Newt."

Newt bit down on his lip, holding back a smile he knew would be so bright he'd scare himself.

An apartment, non-junkie friends, dancing to Fergie, and now a job?

Maybe he really did have a shot at normality.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so, so sweet, ahh! With every one of your comments, my heart goes all fuzzy and I get more and more excited to post! :)  
> About this chapter; finally, Newt met the gang! It is a little bit dimmed at the moment, but I promise as the story progresses Newt will get more time to get to know everyone individually. I think that's important to note because it was really hard to convey personality because it was Group Dynamic. Eh, I hope it still came off well. Might be a while until the next chapter comes out, but I promise I'm working hard on getting it done soon!  
> Thanks for reading,  
> Leave love! :)


	10. Mow

Thomas woke up this morning to the soft taste of Teresa’s lip balm.

He smiled against her lips, fluttering his eyes open to see her grin at him. "Good morning," she whispered, nodding her head to Thomas's side.

Thomas rolled his head, blinking a few times before he registered the sight of Brenda, arms sprawled all over Newt, with Ben's arm halfway up her t-shirt. All asleep, of course. Minho's hand peaked out from under Ben, resting on Newt's hip, and Thomas didn't have to wonder whether he was awake or not.

He smiled at the sight of Newt sleeping so soundly. He'd really fit in well so far, and Thomas was so happy that he’d found friends in the people Thomas loved most in the world.

"Morning," he said, turning back to Teresa, who hovered above him, her hands all over his chest. "What time is it?”

”Eight-thirty,” Teresa replied, without even glancing at the clock. “You don’t have anything to do today, do you? Saturdays are your days-off, I was thinking we could all go have breakfast together.”

Thomas yawned, taking a moment to wake up before trying to think cohesively. When his mouth closed and he exhaled, he clicked his tongue. “Uhh, Newt has an NA meeting, but I don’t know what time that is.”

Teresa narrowed her eyes. “NA?”

Thomas twisted his head to look at the sleeping guy. “Narcotics anonymous.” He paused. “I’m halfway between really wanting him to go, for his recovery, and really wanting him to skip it. It’s his ex who conducts the meetings. I’ve met him. He’s bat-shit. Newt’s covered in bruises.”

Newt’s eyelids fluttered, but he was definitely asleep.

”That’s awful,” Teresa remarked. “Really, it’s horrible. He must be really glad he’s got you and Minho now.”

Thomas turned his head to her, sighing. “He doesn’t really have us, Teresa. It’s not like we’re dating. I don’t even know if he’s ended things properly with Alby.”

Teresa narrowed her eyes, resting her head on the pillow beside his head. “Do you like him? Newt, I mean.”

She rolled off of Thomas and to his side, so Thomas rolled over to look at her. “I like him. And Minho likes him. And I think he likes us too. And if it escalated to more-than-like, I’d really like that. But...I don’t know. Him being an addict hits so close to home. I’ve done this all before, with my dad, y’know? When my mum left, I promised myself I’d never become that person who falls in love with someone who’d destroy me the way my dad destroyed my mum. I feel like I’d just be making the same mistakes as my mum if I let myself love an addict.”

Teresa glanced over Thomas’s shoulder, probably at Newt, and sighed. “Tom. Newt’s not your dad. Your dad didn’t care who he hurt or let down or abused as long as he could steal their money. Did you see Newt’s face when you told him he’s hot enough to work with us? It was like you’d just force-fed him the sunshine. He cares.”

Thomas frowned. “It’s too early to talk about my dad. Let me have my morning bottle of vodka and then we can talk all you want.”

Teresa smirked at him. “Now that sounds like your dad.”

Thomas faked a glare at her, and she giggled. “I’ll make you some coffee. Wake Newt up, ask him when his meeting is so he doesn’t miss it.”

She hopped off of the bed and swaggered towards the bedroom door, theatrically swinging it open and shutting it quietly behind her. Thomas gave the door a smirk, before letting out a sigh and rolled onto his front, holding himself up on his elbows to lean above Brenda.

"Newt?" He whispered. Newt didn't react, so Thomas leant in closer. "Newt?"

"Tom, shut up," Brenda murmured sleepily, and Ben hummed in agreement, still sleeping soundly.

Thomas rolled his eyes, but his mouth was a smile. He reached out a hand and shook Newt's chest gently. "Newt, what time is your meeting?"

The blond's eyebrows twitched sleepily. "What day is it?" He asked, without opening his eyes.

"Saturday," Thomas replied, glancing at Minho because he could see him now that he was sitting up further. Drool hanging out of his mouth and his shirt halfway up his chest, but with perfect hair as always.

"Ten," Newt replied. His eyes began to twitch as if he was trying to get them open. "I'm not late, am I?"

"No, not at all," Thomas calmed him. "It's only eight-thirty. I'll leave you to get up in your own time, but Teresa's making coffee, do you want anything?"

Newt's eyes managed to get themselves half open, and he shook his head sleepily. "No thanks, Tommy."

Thomas gave him a smile, then sat himself up, about to turn to the door when Newt bolted upwards, eyes wide and staring at Thomas. The brunet frowned at him, worried all of a sudden. "What?"

Newt averted his gaze, looking down at Brenda. "Shit. What if Alby's still mad at me? What if he hurts me again?"

His lips kept spilling like he didn't mean to be speaking, but his mouth was moving and his throat was making sounds and he couldn't help it. "Holy fuck, he'll kill me if I tell him you let me have my drugs. Then he'll kill you. I need to be high to deal with this today. I'm going to get bloody high. And you're not allowed to stop me, Tommy, because you don't know how this feels. Oh god, oh god-"

"Newt."

Thomas threw his eyes to Teresa, who was staring in at them with a sad smile. Thomas hadn't wanted to interrupt Newt's moment of panic - or, he wanted to, but his stomach was turning because he'd seen this before. All of it. The panicking fear of living without drugs, the angry determination that getting high would make everything better. If he tried to speak, he might throw up.

Newt stopped, looking over at Teresa with his eyes bulging out of his cranium.

Teresa held a mug between her hands, her t-shirt tucked into her pyjama shorts on one side. Her hair was messy, now that Thomas was awake enough to notice. But she still looked great, orange-yellow light thrown over her from the window. "I made you a cup of tea. Why don't you come drink it and try to calm your mind down a little bit?"

Newt's eyes dropped to his lap, but Thomas gave him a smile anyway. He did his best to say something, but all he could get out of his mouth was a weak, "Yeah."

Thomas headed for the door when he noticed Newt slowly fixing to get out of the bed. He passed Teresa and waited for her to hand Newt her mug before sitting down on the couch. Newt apprehensively sat next to him, and Teresa hurried to pick up two more mugs, before sitting herself down on the coffee table in front of them. She handed one mug of dark brown liquid to Thomas, who sipped the coffee despite it burning his tongue.

They sat in silence, but Thomas could tell it was well understood that it was Newt's cue to say something. So the blond let out a sigh, staring into his tea. "I wish it wasn't like this."

He didn't elaborate, and he didn't have to.

Teresa leant her elbows on her knees, watching Newt curiously. After a moment, she shared her thoughts. “How long have you been together?”

Newt looked up at her, silent at first before he let out a sigh. “Since I was seventeen. I was living in an old warehouse with some friends, and George, who I cheated on with Alby. He was twenty-one. I don’t know. Things were different then.”

”How were they?” Thomas didn’t know if Teresa was asking questions to find a way to help Newt or if she just wanted to know.

Newt answered nonetheless, with a sad expression on his face. “Well, imagine being seventeen, kicked out of your parents’ house, with a guy who trades drugs for sex, and suddenly peaking the interest of a twenty-one-year-old who only wants what’s best for you and thinks your body is more than just a payment to get drugs. It was fun, it was exhilarating, I’d turn up to meetings all doped up and he’d make that dumb face. But I was a teenager, it was all a game to me. I think it was a game to him, too. He thought the faces I made when I shot up were hot. And the adrenalin of cheating on George felt so sexy. When I moved into the house, I think we both realised I’m more than hot heroin-veined faces and he’s more than a warm body to use to get my mind away from George.”

”So, what happened?” Teresa asked, sipping her coffee.

Newt drank some of his tea, before exhaling. “Well, Alby wouldn’t let me shoot up anymore, and I broke up with George, and Alby and I just...evolved into something new. I’d see him when I wasn’t high and suddenly all the shit I used to block out was right there in front of me. He was angrier and meaner. But I love him, and I know he loves me. He must do, or he wouldn’t be so concerned with helping me.”

Thomas frowned sadly at him, reaching over to tuck some of Newt’s dusty blond hair behind his ear. “Newt, you know how much I love Minho, don’t you? If he hit me, even once, I’d pack my bags and leave. Sometimes love doesn’t excuse what people do to you.” He let Newt take that in for a moment, before adding, “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I don’t think your love for Alby gets to be a valid excuse for him beating on you.”

Newt didn’t say anything, staring into his tea with sad eyes. It seemed like deep-down, he already knew that, but Thomas was still glad he’d said it. Maybe it was exactly what Newt needed to hear.

The trio was quiet again for quite some time, Thomas and Teresa watching Newt’s eyes explore his mug as he thought deeply.

Minho woke up next, surprisingly. He swaggered out of the bedroom and smiled at the group tiredly. Thomas knew he could sense something was going on with Newt, but he had the common decency not to ask. Instead, Minho paraded over to Thomas, pressing a warm kiss to his lips. “Morning, _yobo_.”

Thomas gave him a half smile, holding his face delicately. “Hey, baby.”

Minho pulled back, smiled, then ran a careful hand through Newt’s hair. “Good morning.”

Newt looked up at him, with a sad smile. “Morning, Minho.”

Minho still didn’t ask. He just kissed Newt’s hair, closing his eyes to savour it properly. When he pulled back, Newt looked up at him, teary-eyed, and Minho kissed him again. Wordlessly, he hung there like that for a long ten seconds, then he pulled back, and Newt let out a long breath, slightly shaky.

Minho made his way to the kitchen, presumably to make himself a coffee, so Thomas stood up and followed him until he was close enough to kiss on the lips.

”I love you,” he whispered. Minho gave him a smirk.

”For my money, obviously,” he joked. Thomas smiled at him. He’d learnt a while ago that inside joke of theirs was Minho’s way of saying “I love you” back. That, “Do you want to see my new routine?” and the smirking “I hate you” that usually came after a really bad pun.

Minho usually kept the real “I love you” for when he was sad, or when he was mid-orgasm.

Thomas kissed his nose playfully, whispering. “Aren’t you going to ask about Newt?”

Minho shook his head. “He’ll talk if he wants to.”

Thomas turned his head, glanced at Newt, who was making small talk with Teresa. He lowered his voice too much, not even sure Minho would be able to hear him.

”Min, what are we to Newt?” He asked.

Minho looked up at him with narrow eyes. “Well...friends, I guess. For now. Why, is there something we need to talk about?”

Thomas snuck another glance at Newt, then nodded. Minho gave him an expectant look. “Obviously, we’d need to talk to Ben and the girls about it...but let’s pretend Newt wants to be more than friends. What would we...Would you want that?”

Minho’s face was a serious frown, but he wasn’t sad. “Why, did he say something?”

Thomas shook his head. “Teresa and I were talking about it earlier. What would you do?”

Minho shrugged, his eyebrows furrowed sternly. “Well, that’d be good. I’d like that.”

Thomas gave him a half-smile. “The addict thing wouldn’t scare you?”

Minho’s eyebrow perked. “Of course it would scare me. I’d be biting my nails off with nerves whenever Newt wasn’t around. But Newt’s not just an addict. He’s funny, and he’s caring, and he’s fit in so well already.” He paused when Thomas avoided his gaze, feeling guilty he’d reduced Newt to just his addiction. “I get it if it scares you too much, really. And you’re my fiancé, if you want me to shoot down my feelings while they’re still small, I’ll do my darnedest to. But I like the Newt behind all the drug stuff. I want to know him better, y’know?”

Thomas nodded softly. Minho had a point. Newt was a different version of himself from when he was dancing last night to the dope-centred freak-out this morning.

If they wanted the Newt that danced and smiled, they’d have to deal with the one that cried and panicked. That was the decision they would be making if Newt even liked them that way in the first place.

Thomas didn’t force himself to make a decision yet. He’d leave that until the moment came if it came. He half-hoped it would come.

Thomas hung around watching Minho make his coffee, with his arms around his waist holding him from behind like a koala to a tree. Minho told him how annoying it was but Thomas just smirked and gave him a big ol’ hickey on the back of his neck. Minho stopped complaining.

”Tom, you good?” Brenda had one eyebrow furrowed in concern and the other raised, almost comically.

Thomas turned to her, giving her a smile. “Wow, Brenda. How long’s it been since you last saw the morning?”

Brenda made a face. “Considering I don’t sleep until five, I think I’m allowed to take a couple more hours than the average person.”

Thomas giggled at her, letting go of Minho to wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Minho’s making drinks, whaddya want?”

”Hey, I’m making _myself_ a coffee, and I’m almost done.” Minho protested. “I’m not making anything for anyone until I get to sit down and enjoy it.”

Brenda made another face at him, scrunched up and tongue poking out like a kid. Minho made a similar face back, and Thomas grinned.

”Now, now, children. There’s no need to argue.”

Brenda smiled and gave him a kiss.

It felt so much like one of the many, many Saturday mornings where he’d woken up to Teresa’s taste, with a mix-match of warm figures playing pile-on beside him, that he almost forgot Newt was even here. He wasn’t part of this scene usually, so when Thomas turned to the couch and saw two heads of blond hair, it took him a moment to remind himself it was Newt and not a skinny clone of Ben. Ben, who was laying on the couch with his hands on the back of his head, Newt demoted to the floor.

Thomas left Brenda in the kitchen and wandered out to yell at Ben. “Hey, there’re six of us, Benny. Legs off the couch.”

Ben tutted, rolling his eyes, but he shifted to sit up anyway. Newt stayed on the floor, sitting comfortably on the bean bag, but Thomas sat on the couch, shoving Ben’s legs off of his lap when the blond tried to lay down again.

Newt had found a pen somewhere, doodling mindlessly on the back of an unopened letter. Thomas couldn’t see what he was drawing, but he smiled when Ben asked, “What’re ya drawin’ there, Newton?”

Newt glanced up at him. “Oh. Shit, sorry. Was this letter important? I figured it was junk mail since no one opened it.”

He handed Thomas the envelope with the address facing up, and Thomas sneaked a look at the doodle. It was cute, a little round bird pecking at little specks on the paper. Thomas grinned. “You draw a lot?”

Newt shrugged, rolling the pen around between his fingers. “I used to paint. I was going to be famous and everything. The next bloody Da Vinci, my sister always said. But Alby didn’t let me have paint in the house so I made do with pencils and shitty sketchbook paper he’d buy me for my birthday.”

”You have a sister?” Minho asked from the kitchen door, cupping his coffee with his palms.

Newt looked up at him. His eyes couldn’t seem to figure out what they were doing, both sad and happy at the same time. Thomas could tell he was looking back on something good. “Yeah. Lizzy,” he told the floor, with a delicate smile.

“Are you close?” Teresa asked, smiling like she couldn't see the sadness on Newt's face. Newt frowned. He was quiet, thoughtful. Almost solemn. Then he stood up.

”I don’t want to talk about her,” he murmured. “Sorry. I need a shower.”

He trudged to the bedroom, and the sound of the bathroom door slamming from inside the room made Thomas jump. Thomas couldn’t tell if Newt was angry or just upset. But there was a suffocating silence in the air as everyone made up their own theories what happened between Newt and Lizzy.

“Not our business,” Brenda reminded the group, slapping Minho on the back of the head gently.

She was right.

"Tee, did you feed Mow?" It was obvious how eager she was to change the subject. Thomas let out a soft groan when Teresa replied, "Why, is she at the window again?"

Ben was the one to stand up, cooing at the little kitty face staring at her owners from the fire escape outside the window. Thomas opened one of the pizza boxes on the coffee table and picked off some meat from the left-overs, before trudging over to Ben, who had scooped Mow into his arms and was nuzzling her head with his nose.

Sure, that dumb kitty was so cute it hurt, with grey and black stripes and little white sock-shaped fur on her paws, but she hated Thomas. Ben and Minho chipped in, to surprise Brenda with a cat for her birthday, but no matter what, the creature never got used to Thomas. She'd let him pet her, and occasionally she wouldn't scratch him to shreds when he tried to pick up her favourite toy, but Thomas had no hope of ever holding her in his arms the way Ben was. That was fine, though. Thomas was more of a dog person anyway, like Teresa. But their two votes over Minho, Brenda and Ben's votes for a cat was just not enough. Maybe if Newt liked dogs, Minho would let them get one. For now, though, Mow held the majority.

Mow was a dumb name for a cat. M-A-W. It all came from Minho's famous story of the dog named Bark that ran away when he was seven. Brenda loved that story and wanted to honour it.

Thomas carefully fed bits of cold ham and pepperoni slices into Mow's mouth, while Ben called her a precious little baby and kissed her head. Ben wasn't even that loving towards Minho.

Brenda came over and petted her cat gently. "Mow, you know I've told you not to bother Tom and Minho."

She said it with a smirk, and Thomas rolled his eyes. She knew he was very aware that any time the apartment would be empty for longer than a few hours, she and Teresa kept the window open so Mow could saunter down the fire escape and get food and shelter from her babysitters.

"Tommy, where do you keep the towels-"

Thomas turned, to find Newt staring confusedly at the cat. It looked like he wasn't sure whether he'd just stepped into an alternate reality or not.

Ben held the kitten up proudly. "Newt, this is Mow. She's the Murphy-Park family mascot."

Newt blinked a few times before a grin spread across his face and he hopped over to rub her little head. "The Murphy-Park family? Is that what this is called?"

Teresa spoke from the couch. "Well, if Bren and I married Thomas we'd be Murphy, and Ben would take Minho's name if they got married. So yeah, that's what we're called."

Newt smirked as Thomas handed him the pieces of left-over meat to feed to the kitten. Mow already loved him, purring like a motor and licking his fingers after taking the food from them. "Who's name would I take?"

Minho chuckled, his arm around Ben - truth be told, Thomas hadn't even noticed him sneaking up behind him, too hypnotised by Newt's grin. "Well, that depends who you're marrying."

Newt looked up at him, his smile all wide and giggly. "Why, Mow, of course."

Thomas half-wished Brenda and Teresa would keep their window open more often, if that tabby made Newt smile like that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wOAH over 1000 hits?! Thank you so much!! That’s really cool!  
> The next chapter might be a wee bit delayed bc i’m actually on holiday for a week on monday so i won’t have that much time to write, but I’ve been trying to make it work and doing as much queued writing as possible lmao.  
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Leave love x


	11. N-A Spells 'No'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> -Description of child abuse  
> -Mention of suicide

Thomas bit the inside of his mouth as he watched Newt knock hesitantly on the door to his house. Well, _the_ house. It wasn't his anymore. If it ever had been. Newt took a long, long drag from the cigarette Minho wouldn't let him light in the car, and just about managed to get all the smoke from his lungs by the time the door opened, to reveal Alby with a hesitant smile on his face. Thomas watched Newt drop the cigarette and snuff it out on the doorstep, barely looking up at Alby as he pushed past him and through the doorway.

Thomas glanced at Minho, who sat in the driver's seat, looking toward the house. He wasn't wearing his seat-belt, and Thomas thought to mention it, but they were parked and would be for the next hour or so. With that, Thomas unclipped his own seatbelt.

"And then there were two," Minho murmured, turning back to Thomas with a sigh. Thomas gave him a smile, reaching over to run a hand through his hair. Minho used to hate that, but he found extra strong hair gel a few years ago and now he kinda had a thing for Thomas messing with it. He smiled softly and pulled back to lean against the car door, sitting his feet on Thomas's legs.

"It's been a while since we've been alone together, hasn't it?" Thomas pointed out, drawing patterns on the bottom of Minho's shoes. Minho raised an eyebrow.

"It's been at most a couple days," he countered with a smirk. "But if you're that desperate for me, Mr Murphy, I'm sure we can arrange some private time."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Min, I wasn't saying that. It just really has been a while. So, how've you been?"

Minho smiled, shifting his ADHD-diagnosed self again to sit properly, with his feet on the ground. "Don't you dare play the 'how've you been' card. My brain might fall out from boredom."

"What?" Thomas scoffed, crossing his arms. "It's a conversation starter."

"It's small talk," Minho chuckled. "That's how you know a conversation's gone dead. I thought you were better than this, Thomas."

Thomas laughed, leaning over to place a nice, sweet kiss on Minho's lips. "Okay, so what do you want to talk about?"

Minho wrapped his arms around Thomas's neck, keeping him close. "Who said I want to talk?"

Thomas giggled, twisting himself onto his knees so he would actually be comfortable. "Baby, we're in a car."

Minho's hands already pulling at Thomas's t-shirt. "Correction, we're  _bored_ in a car."

Thomas laughed again, kissing Minho's cheek softly. He'd stop this eventually, but there was no reason they couldn't make out a little. It reminded Thomas of high school when they used to do this sort of stuff all the time. Thomas liked to call those 'the good old days', but every day had just gotten better and better the longer he and Minho had been together. Even if they eventually did stop making out in parked cars.

Minho had, like, three layers of pants on, and Thomas didn't want this to be _too_ half-hearted, so after a couple of minutes, he shoved his hand down layer one and two. Minho considered this a victory and lay back against the door, happy to let Thomas do all the work, but Thomas stopped when he heard a door slam shut somewhere on the street. He jumped back, his face flushing hot as he sat up, glancing around to see who it was.

Minho let out a groan. "Oh, god, this is it. We've lost the passion in our relationship. I want a divorce."

Thomas faked a glare at him. "We're not married yet. And I just don't want to get caught, is all. Even if we weren't two guys, this is a dodgy neighbourhood. I promise I'll ask Newt if he can sleep in the spare room just for tonight, and we can have the bedroom to ourselves, yeah?"

"What? No." Minho suddenly became serious. "That's against the rules."

Thomas frowned, eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah, but Minho, we need to have the bed to ourselves sometimes."

"We'll find other ways to get it on, Thomas," Minho replied. He was dead serious, and it took Thomas by surprise. "Newt sleeps with us every night, that's a rule. We wrote it down, it's taped on the fridge. We stick to the rules, maintain order."

Thomas opened his mouth to ask if Minho was okay, why he was so dead-set about this, but a door opened in the back of the car, and Newt sat down. "No. Not happening."

Minho gave Thomas a look when Newt silently reached for the seatbelt, pulling a phone out of the pocket in his jeans and checking his notifications.

"What happened?" Thomas asked, really unsure whether to push Newt or not. He said it wasn't happening, maybe that decision was final. 

Newt looked up at him, with a kind of angry sadness in his eyes. His face was intense. "I can't go back to that. I can't. This morning I was sipping tea with a bunch of people who seemed to actually like me and stroking this adorable cat and getting excited to start a new job tonight, and then, I walk in there and all of that goes away and I'm just Newt the Junkie again. I know I can't live in fairytale land forever. But for once in my life, I was starting to feel like a real person. Why does it always have to come back to this?"

Thomas frowned. “Newt, this is an improvement. Even if you have to go back for an hour, you’ve still got a new place to live and a job and a cat and all that stuff.”

”Why do I have to go back?” Newt growled. He was frustrated, but it was a frustration in himself. One Thomas shouldn't even be able to see. “Why can’t I just forget this place exists and move on? If I could just get a grasp on this bloody addiction for half a second, I’d be fucking golden. I’d leave and never come back, I swear it."

”Newt,” Minho said, calming the situation down slightly. “You might feel better after talking about it with your group. They understand better than us. Look, we’ll even go in with you, _yobo_.”

Thomas’s face dropped. The last thing he wanted to do was attend any more NA meetings. But when Newt gave him half a hopeful look, he caved. “If you want us there.”

Newt being comfortable was more important than Thomas’s petty feelings towards these meetings.

Newt thought about this for a moment, glancing suspiciously between Minho and Thomas. It was as if he thought this was some kind of set up. But eventually, he clicked his tongue, reluctant as he pushed open the car door. He nodded to Thomas before he climbed out of the car, and Thomas gave Minho a sarcastic smile, his heart sinking as he exited the car. This was the exact kind of thing he told Minho he didn’t want to end up doing if they did ask Newt to move in with them. But if it got Newt to be active in recovery, it was the least he could do.

The trio reached the door, and Newt pushed it open without hesitating or knocking.

An Asian man with a green jacket on was standing near the door but Newt just pushed past him and through the doorway, pulling Minho by a pinch on his too-tight t-shirt, who in-turn held Thomas’s hand and pulled him too.

Newt didn’t stop pulling the couple through the house until he reached the end of the hallway, and had pushed the door open to reveal a room painted light blue, although most of it was covered by posters of encouragement and different sayings and awareness leaflets. On the floor lay a circle of plastic chairs, more stacked in the corner of the room, near a big window letting in most of the room’s light through the thin blinds.

Thomas smiled politely at the eight or nine men taking up most of the chairs, nudging Minho to do the same. The ones who’d glanced up at him curiously as he’d walked in smiled back, but most everyone else was more concerned by Newt. The room, which previously had been bustling with conversation, had dipped into silence, almost a solemn silence. A blond-haired man in the seat close to Newt stood up as if called to attention. His Adam’s apple bobbed, as he forced a sad smile at Newt.

“Hey, Newt,” he said in a deep, smooth voice. “You okay? Fry and I got scared when you didn’t come home the other night. You didn’t relapse, did you?”

Newt shook his head, looking at the floor. “I’m fine. Stayed with some friends. Um, I meant to thank you that night for- …y’know. So, thanks, Zart.”

‘Zart’ gave him a sad look, but Newt didn’t look up to see it. He pulled his sleeves over his knuckles and glanced at Minho’s hand before taking hold of it and squeezing it tight. “Tommy, Minho, these are the guys.” He pointed as he spoke, and Thomas smiled awkwardly and waved. “This is Zart, that’s Winston. They’re my roommates, with Frypan but he goes to the alcohol meetings only. That’s Dmitri, Jeff, Stephen, Jason, Clint and I’ll assume you know Nick.”

Thomas hadn’t noticed his black-sheep-of-the-family cousin over by the window, but they weren’t exactly close. They smiled at each other anyway, because of manners, and Nick did an awkward thumbs-up.

“Right, here’s where everyone picks a seat, but don’t sit down yet,” Alby appeared behind Newt, and gave him a gentle pat on the back while his other hand gestured to four empty seats on the far side of the room. Newt looked at Minho, then Thomas, as if confirming that yes, they should go and stand in those chairs, and they made their way over. Thomas stood next to Minho and Nick, as he and everyone who’d been sitting down stood up.

Newt still hadn’t let go of Minho’s hand, and Thomas wondered how Alby was going to react to that.

“Repeat after me,” Alby said as he found a chair and stood in front of it. “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can’t change.”

Everyone repeated the phrase except Minho, who sucked in through his teeth and winced.

Thomas looked towards him, grinning so Minho knew he was holding in laughs.

“You’re supposed to repeat it,” Newt leant in to whisper, as Alby said the next part. Minho turned to look at him, shaking his head with his ‘I don’t think so’ smile.

“I’m a gay man in a polyamorous relationship,” he huffed. “The big guy and I aren’t really on the best terms.”

Newt grinned, squeezing Minho’s hand. “I’m sure your kindness to me scores you and Tommy a few points, Min.”

Alby said the last part of the prayer, as Minho and Thomas tried to hide the smiles they were giving each other. Thomas couldn’t speak for Minho - often, he outright refused to -, but he hadn’t really seen helping Newt as an act of kindness, he’d just wanted to help.

“You can sit,” Alby announced, and everyone dropped onto their designated seats. “For any newbies, you may be familiar with the 12-step program. We do that in a different meeting that’s usually in the evenings. We just share and talk in these meetings. Now, is there anyone who’d like to share anything today? Can be anything, so don’t hold back.”

He gave them all a counsellor’s smile.

Stephen told a story. As a kid, he liked eating sand. He lived right next to a beach, and his parents weren’t the best when it came to taking care of his needs, so he’d go out, walk along the ocean-line, pick up sand, and shove it down his gullet. One day, he accidentally ate a small crab. It scared and upset him so much that he realised he didn’t want to eat sand again, so he stopped. He said it reminded him of his overdose. He really liked using crack. It made him feel good, he thought it was fun. Then he had an overdose, and it made him realise how scared and upset it could make him. So, he decided to stop. “I don’t know,” Stephen said at the end of his talk. “I started thinking about it last week after I took my girlfriend out to the beach and I saw some kid with sand all around his mouth. I can’t stop thinking about it now.”

The other addicts applauded and moved on to Dmitri. He talked about his issues with a girl he liked. She pulled his hair too hard when they made-out.

Winston next. He talked about death, and whether or not he’d know if he was going to die today. He and Newt had a discussion about it, talking about what they called ‘The Catch 22’, even though it had nothing to do with the actual catch 22.

The Catch 22 was this: Newt made a confession - at least he was confessing it to Minho and Thomas - that he’d been told when he was seventeen that if he carried on the way he was going, he wouldn’t make it to twenty-two. It wasn’t just growing older to him. It was a milestone, it was proof to him that he wasn’t defined by what the drugs had done to him and his body. That he could get through this all and come out alive.

But he also said it was difficult.

“It’s just…When she told me that, I prepared for it. I accepted it, I was going to die sometime in the next five years. Every day since then has just been a big question mark, and the words ‘will it be today’ before it. It made things easy. I didn’t have to plan for the future, I didn’t have to go to school or get a job or whatever else. I know I could still die any day now, I’m not that stupid, but…if I make it to my birthday, I won’t have a deadline. And then I’m just a guy with no qualifications and nothing to help me start to put my life on track.”

He looked at Minho, his eyes becoming glassy, and his nose turning pink. “I’m scared. I’ve never known adult life without heroin. Even this month, this horrible, boring, depressing month of being sober has been really, really terrifying. I want to do an art course, I want to get a job and have a boyfriend and all the normal adult stuff, but I'm so scared. I think...I think I might be starting to get on track, Minho offered me a job at his club. But it’s new, and I like things I’m used to. That being said, everything I’m used to sucks.”

Thomas glanced at Alby, who narrowed his eyes momentarily before straightening up.

They weren’t particularly going in turns, but when Newt finished his speech, everyone kind of shifted their attention to Minho. He gasped, realising he was supposed to say something now. “Oh! Um…” he began. “I, uh, I’m not an addict. I don’t really have anything to say.”

“You don’t have to be an addict to tell us about your life,” Winston replied, with a ‘go ahead’ look. Minho considered that then hummed. Thomas squeezed his hand.

“Okay then,” he sighed. “Alright, well, let’s see. I’m engaged to the man of my dreams. But I’m in an open relationship, so it’s kinda unfair to my boyfriend to assume he’s _the_ man, more like _a_ man. But I love both of them to pieces and-”

Newt cut him off. “Open relationship, does everyone know what that is?”

Most people nodded, some grunted questionably as their peers leant over to explain.

”Newt, don’t interrupt,” Alby piped up, his voice duller than it had been.

Minho moved on with a small look at Thomas. “Anyway. I, um, I work as the choreographer down at The Scorch. I was adopted by a tailor and a nurse when I was a boy. I had a childhood dog named ‘ _Bark’_. I wasn’t the most creative kid. My hobbies include dancing, sex and watching Thomas and Ben argue about whether the book or the movie was better. Thomas actually…his dad was a heroin addict.”

Thomas frowned, but Minho was already skipping down the slums of memory lane, focused on the floor.

“I remember when I was fifteen, watching the school nurse give Thomas a sad, sympathetic look as she told him his father was in hospital, expecting him to burst into tears or become overwhelmed with worry, but he just groaned and told her he was in the middle of lunch and his father should find a more convenient time to die instead of being so selfish and making him miss Pizza Friday.”

Thomas forgot about that. It made his heart burn that even when they had left school, they had pizza every Friday. Some things never changed.

“That’s just how it was. Well, sometimes, I guess. His mother left with his brother, Chuck, a month after Chuckie was born-.”

”Min,” Thomas tried, as Chuck’s name sent a bolt through him.

“-when Thomas was thirteen. So, it really was just him and his dad. Sometimes he’d be complaining about finding random stashes around the house or joking about how annoying it was that child protective services hadn’t arrested his dad yet, and sometimes he’d just be utterly broken. Like, when we were seventeen, I went on a trip with my parents to South Korea for two weeks-,”

”Min.”

”-and three days after I arrived, I skyped Thomas. I sat there, from 2 am to 9:30 am, watching him cry and sob on his bathroom floor, completely naked apart from my sweatshirt and a blanket-,”

”Minho.”

”-asking me over and over why he shouldn’t just inject his father’s cocaine into his system and give himself an overdose. My appa made me get the next plane home, and when I got to his house some twenty hours later, h-he was still sitting in his bathroom, exactly where I’d left him.”

Minho had to stop, because Thomas gently held his chin, turning his head to look at Thomas’s teary eyes. “Min.”

Minho’s eyes were teary too, and he sniffed, wrapping an arm around Thomas. “Sorry. Sorry, _ja gi_. I didn’t mean to upset you, Thomas. I’m so sorry.”

Thomas wrapped both arms around him, burying his face in his neck, whimpering softly and holding him as though he might disappear right now.

That night was the single worst night of his life. Minho was gone, Thomas’s dad had come home just to yell at his son for three hours and Thomas really, really couldn’t do it anymore. He spent his life at the mercy of drugs he wasn’t even taking and it damn near killed him.

The group was quiet, but Thomas didn’t care whether they’d just burst into a rendition of Defying Gravity. He just continued to cry into his fiancé’s shoulder. Minho, his saviour. The one good thing in his life until he was eighteen and moved out of his dad’s place.

Is this what it was like for Newt? All that darkness and feeling trapped forever in his own life, but one good thing keeping him going? Thomas didn’t know whether that one good thing was Thomas and Minho, or Alby, but it really did seem like Newt had learnt a thing or two about healthy relationships with his new friends.

Thomas was still sniffling slightly when he and Minho broke apart, to a room full of silent onlookers. He’d been in meetings like this before. The general vibe was respected, and no judgement. Even with Nick staring at him with wide eyes, that atmosphere remained. Maybe Nick didn’t know how shitty his favourite uncle used to be. Might make him re-think wanting to move in with him.

“See, Alby?” Newt’s friend, Zart, piped up. Alby looked at him, eyes sharp. “That’s how you treat your boyfriend.”

Newt swallowed, head down, arms crossed over his chest, and Thomas shared a look with Minho.

Alby cleared his throat awkwardly. “Zart, that’s an inappropriate topic for this meeting.”

Zart rolled his eyes. “Since when do you fuckin’ care about what’s appropriate and what’s not? What, did you have an epiphany while you were choking Newt half to death?”

The room plunged into silence. Almost respectful, like they were taking a minute's silence for Newt's fucked relationship.

No one spoke for a long time. The silence seemed to grow thicker with every second, until Newt ran his hands through his hair, tugging. "Fuck. Fuck. I think I wanna leave. Right now. Let's go."

Thomas frowned. There was something in Newt's tone, this panicking urgency, that didn't sit right with Thomas. It was the same tone he'd used this morning, saying he had to use. Thomas's gaze flicked to Alby, who had the same panic on his face as Newt had in his voice. "Wait, Newt-" He narrowed his eyes, darting it from Newt to Minho to Thomas then back to Newt. "Newt, please-"

Newt was still pulling his hair, and he groaned out, "Fuck you, Alby," before he let go and grabbed Minho's hand. "Can we go?"

Minho nodded softly, he didn't know what else to do. So Thomas stood up, promptly followed by the boys, and headed to the door. He heard Alby begin to apologise and try to stop Newt from leaving but the second Newt got out the door, he sprinted to the car. Thomas and Minho followed, buckled themselves up, and Alby slammed into the side of the car just as Minho pulled away. Thomas breathed for a moment, though his throat felt tight, staring at Newt, who stared out the window, hand on his chin, impatiently fidgeting and tapping his feet.

Thomas reached out to touch his knee, stop his leg's restless shaking. "You want to use, don't you?"

Newt nodded fast, chewing his fingernails, staring out the window. "Yeah. Yeah, I bloody do. Please get me home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G'd evening!  
> Chapter 11 at last. Sorry for the hiatus, and sorry this chapter's quite short. I went on a trip and was stuck with no wifi for a week :/  
> Still, I hope you like this chapter! Thank you for reading, and thanks for your patience!  
> Hope you enjoy,  
> Leave love :)


	12. Warped Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:  
> -Not very graphic smut

Newt hadn’t breathed a single breath that didn’t taste like tobacco since he got in the car, and even though he had a coughing fit outside Tommy and Minho’s apartment, it didn’t stop him lighting another cigarette.

”Newt, I don’t think that’s very good for you-,” Minho frowned, helping Newt up from his hunched position, wheezing.

”One vice at a time, Min,” he whispered, as Thomas opened the apartment door and let the trio in.

”Newt,” Thomas called out, turning to him as Minho kicked the door closed behind them. “Red, amber, green. How risky is it to leave you alone right now?”

Newt pulled his cig from out of his mouth, holding it between two fingers like women in old hollywood movies. “Red. All the way fucking red.” He didn’t have the grace of those women.

Thomas had upset eyes, but when he opened his mouth to speak, a female voice emerged.

”Maybe if we stay absolutely still, they won’t spot us.”

Thomas twizzled on the balls of his feet, and Newt stepped out from behind him to look down at the couch.

Teresa was wearing Brenda’s hat from the night before. That, a t-shirt around her neck and a bra around Brenda’s chest was the only clothing between them.

Newt felt his entire face flush red. For a moment, he forgot his blood was aching to be invaded, and he was just a gay guy wondering if he’d ever seen boobs in real life before.

But then the craving ache came back, and he dropped his eyes to the floor.

”Why aren’t you upstairs?” Thomas asked, as Minho threw his hand over Newt’s eyes. Newt slapped him away but kept his gaze down.

”The apartment was empty, we were already here. You know how it can get when you’re all caught up in the moment.” One of the girls replied, Teresa probably. Newt didn’t look up to check.

Minho scoffed. “Actually, no. We don’t know anything about that. Thomas didn’t even want to have car sex this morning.”

Newt’s face was still hot, trying to push away every image of Minho and Thomas doing what Brenda and Teresa had been doing.

Brenda gasped, definitely Brenda, because she stood up and pulled a pair of pants up her legs. “Thomas. Wow. Have I taught you nothing?”

“Bren, not a good time.” Thomas clearly wasn’t in the mood. Newt looked up to see a deep scowl on his face. “We’ve got private roommate matters to tend to, babe, why don’t you two go upstairs?”

Teresa stood up, she’d pulled her t-shirt down, and grabbed a pair of jeans off the floor. “Call us if you need us, Tom.”

Thomas nodded and the girls each gave him a kiss as they hopped towards the door, still trying to tug clothes around them.

The door shut behind Teresa, and Thomas turned his attention back to Newt. Solemn, he reached out to touch his hand.

”What can we do for you?” He asked. Newt shrugged, pulling his hand away.

”Alright, what does Alby do?” Minho asked, spinning to face him and hug Thomas at the same time. Newt frowned, his face going pink.

”That’s not important,” he said, avoiding the question. Although maybe if he could just get a minute alone, he could get a warm tingly feeling in another way, that didn’t damage his bloodstream. It wouldn’t stop his cravings but it might-

”Oh, _yobo_ , your father called this morning,” Minho said, out of the blue, and Newt’s head snapped up to look at Thomas. Shit, the father that made him suicidal?

Thomas raised an eyebrow, not looking up. “What’d he want?”

Minho kissed his temple. All his attention was on Thomas. Like this wasn’t something to just be talked about. “Just wanted to check if we’d gotten married without him again. I’ve told him it’s not happening but he thinks we’re just not inviting him.”

Thomas let out a quiet groan, and besides better judgement, Newt’s curiosity interrupted. “What do you mean it’s not happening? You’re not getting married?”

Minho looked at him. “Yeah, yeah. We are. Just...we want it to be small.”

”Yeah,” Thomas agreed. “Like, turning up at a church, signing some papers, then leaving.”

Newt was baffled. “Why?”

Minho and Thomas shared a look. They were always doing that. Someday, Newt swore, he’d learn their language.

“Teresa wants a wedding,” Minho explained. “Her parents think she and Thomas are a monogamous straight couple, and they want them to marry.”

”She’s not out yet,” Thomas added. “Trust me, if she told her family about Brenda, they’d never speak to her again. Minho and I can get married legally, and Teresa and I can still have the show-off wedding to keep her parents happy.”

Newt frowned, his brows creasing hard. “But you love Minho, you want to marry _him_ , not Teresa. Why doesn’t Minho get a wedding?”

He knew he’d said something wrong when the couple’s faces fell.

”Thomas loves Teresa too,” Minho said in a low voice. “We’d all get five-person married if we could, but we all talked about it, and we decided that Thomas and I are the link between everyone so they wanted us to marry.”

”Yeah, and Teresa and I can have all the wedding crap and be married,” Thomas said. “But it just won’t be legally binding.”

”I don’t even want a wedding,” Minho added, with a shrug. “Got no family who’d want to come, I’m not paying thousands of dollars to profess my love to a guy that knows I love him. Y’know?”

Newt frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. He fiddled with a tear in his shirt, a kind of sadness in his chest. What the fuck had he been doing with Alby these past six years? When love was like this, why had he given so much of it to a man who threw it back in his face?

”You okay?” Thomas asked over the silence. Newt looked up at him, let out a sigh, then uncrossed his arms.

”You two hate Alby, don’t you?” He asked, his voice only slightly shaky.

”Well, no but-”

”Yeah. Yeah, we kinda do,” Minho interrupted. Newt exhaled, burying his face in his palms, upset.

”My idea of love...” he whispered. “It’s always been so bloody warped. I let George get me hooked on heroin, I let him take advantage of me, I let him get me high then fuck me as payment. And now I’m letting Alby convince me that love is supposed to hurt. That he only hurts me because he’s so passionate, and loves me so much. But that’s not right. None of it ever bloody was.”

Minho grabbed his hand from his face, and held it, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. “That’s not your fault. You deserved so much better, and you didn’t get it. But you still do, and I promise there’s someone out there who’ll want to give it to you.”

Newt frowned, pulling his hand down his face to refresh himself somewhat. “All I want is to get high, stay high, and sleep next to you two.”

Thomas smiled slightly at that. “I’m sure that last thing can be arranged, Newt.”

Newt wanted to be glad these two were such kind people, but he remembered his original plan, getting himself alone and trying to get a rush that may or may not help with the cravings.

He set his cigarette down and pulled his hand from Minho. “I’m going to take a shower, if that’s-”

”Where’s your drugs?” Thomas asked. Newt sniffed.

”Spare bedroom, behind the cabinet,” he answered. “I won’t be  in there.”

Thomas glanced at Minho, then nodded, before twitching his head to the bathroom.

Newt walked away, into the small white room, and checked the lock three times before turning on the hot water.

He stripped and stepped into the stream, closing his eyes to get on with this.

Sexy thoughts. Shit, sexy thoughts.

Newt chewed the inside of his cheek. Alby. Alby’s abs? Those strong arms?

That was probably the worst thing he could think about right now. Maybe...that magazine he used to keep under his bed?

It was a shame he couldn’t remember any of their faces.

Newt’s brain did a thing he did not give it permission to do, no siree, as he desperately searched for something to get himself all tingly downstairs.

It thought about Thomas and Minho. Truth be told, Newt hadn’t really thought too much into that night. The night they all hooked up. It was a huge blind spot in his memory, he didn’t really gain anything from giving himself headaches trying to remember.

But his imagination took over, desperate for something to grasp onto.

If Newt had wandered drunkenly into Minho’s club, maybe he’d paid for a lap dance. Yeah, maybe Alby didn’t trust him with money and never let him have any on his person, but it still could have happened.

And then maybe...Ben was there, and he got jealous and started dancing with Newt too.

Then Thomas got out a needle, and Newt let him inject liquid paradise into his body. Yeah. And Thomas and Minho did it too.

Newt was so out of it he didn’t even notice he’d gone home with the two hot guys he’d met. Yeah, and he just got to lay back and enjoy his high while Thomas and Minho worked hard and made him feel good.

Really good. Holy shit.

Newt threw a hand out and caught himself on the shower wall, shame and embarrassment and a sudden rush of blood out of other places on his body made his face burn bright red.

Bloody hell, Newt had officially taken the A train to Creepy Town. Asking to sleep in the same bed as them was stop one, holding Minho’s hand all through that bloody meeting was stop two, and wanking over an imaginary scenario meant he’d reached his destination.

Fuck. Newt washed himself off, hopped out of the shower, and grabbed a towel hanging from a ring on the wall.

As per usual, his relaxing post-shower chill out was interrupted by a knock on the door. Although this time it wasn’t Frypan complaining that, as chef, he needed to keep himself cleaner than professional nap taker Newt did. It was a knock on the apartment door, that no one was answering.

Newt frowned. Surely, as the newbie in the apartment, Newt wouldn’t be expected to answer the door yet.

Still, if he wanted to feel like part of the gang, he had to act like it.

He tutted as he hurriedly grabbed his clothes from the floor and hurried out to the apartment door.

He’d barely buttoned up his shorts before he pulled it open, his shirt still just slung over his shoulder.

“Really?” Newt’s face fell into a deep scowl.

Alby stood there, arms crossed, but with soft eyes. He wasn’t here to hurt Newt, but he would, and Newt could tell.

”Who is it?” Minho asked, appearing out of the bedroom door with only a pair of boxers on and his socks. Newt gave him a gentle frown, pretending his face wasn’t turning bright red - he was just thinking about that toned torso - as Alby raised his eyebrows. Minho peaked towards the door, letting out a groan.

”I’m here for a mandatory safety inspection,” Alby said before Minho could kick his arse out of here. “If you want me to allow Newt to stay, I have to do it. Not negotiable.”

Minho opened his mouth to say something, but Alby spoke up before him again. “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“What are you, a vampire?” Minho snarled under his breath, stepping aside for Alby to enter. Newt hid a grin as Alby walked past him.

“Sure, Alby, come on in.” Thomas stood in the bedroom doorway, buttoning up his shirt. He forced a polite smile, sending a warning look at Minho, who mocked him to Newt as he closed the door.

“Mandatory Safety Inspection?” Newt watched Minho’s face fall into a scowl as Alby began to examine the apartment, a look of concentration on his face. “What are you looking for?” He looked at Newt.

Newt noticed Alby’s eyes narrow, as he snuck a glance at Minho, then back at Thomas’s bookshelf – Thomas’s because he’d found five books written by Thomases, and five written by Murphys. The shelf below that was Minhos and Parks, though Minho claimed he hadn’t read them. Thomas had, though.

Alby didn’t answer. “I’m obligated to ask what you were up to before I got here. I don’t want to let Newt stay with someone who’ll take advantage of his vulnerability.”

Newt felt his face freeze in a confused look. The fact that Alby could say that with a straight face baffled him. How many times had Alby ‘taken advantage of his vulnerability’? Minho and Thomas were looking after him, making sure not to take advantage of anything of his. Alby used to claw into him, prey on his vulnerable moments to lecture him and make him feel bad about himself.

Look, as the conductor of a rehab facility, Alby was great. But as a boyfriend, he was hellish.

Minho pushed himself up from where he’d been leaning on the wall, and scoffed. “Oh, yeah, we were having just the best threesome I’ve ever had. Just taking advantage all over the place. That reminds me, don’t sit on the couch.”

Newt’s breathing was getting fast.

“Min, shut up,” Thomas rolled his eyes from the bedroom doorway, throwing a t-shirt over to him. Newt barely saw the hair towel speeding towards him through the air, but managed to catch it before it hit him in the chest. “The only thing Minho and I took advantage of was the fact that Newt was in the shower and we had some privacy.”

Newt hadn’t even thought to wonder what Minho and Thomas’s excuses were for being half-naked. It made sense now. And it kind of made him want to crawl up into a little ball of shame and die.

Alby frowned, standing up straight. “Well, it’s hard to tell with your type.”

Newt tried not to feel guilty for Alby’s words as Minho and Thomas glanced at each other, conversing in that silent language Newt hadn’t learnt yet. Thomas looked at Alby. “Our type? What do you mean?”

Alby shrugged, pulling one of the ‘Thomas’ books out of the shelf. “You’re in an open relationship, aren’t you? If you ask me it’s just a fancy name for hyper-sexuality.”

Minho opened his mouth to argue, but Newt shook his head. “It’s not worth it.”

Alby looked at Newt, who tried to avoid his eyes. How dare he just barge into Min and Tommy’s apartment saying he had to do some inspection barely an hour after that meeting?

“Where are you sleeping?” He asked. Newt glanced at Thomas, then nodded his head to the spare bedroom’s door, reluctant. Alby gave him a look. “Give me a tour of your room?”

Newt glanced at Minho, who shrugged. The last thing Newt really wanted to do was be alone with Alby again, but this was obviously an invitation to talk in private.

He sighed, picking his teeth with his tongue as he walked to his bedroom, and opened the door, extending an arm into the room as if to grant Alby passage.

Alby entered the room, and Newt frowned when he moved out of the way and Alby reached over to close the door.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Newt snapped, leaning against the wall. “I’m finally starting to get things right, Alby. You’re just setting me back.”

“Newt, that’s not true,” Alby shook his head. He wasn’t doing much safety inspecting. “I care about you so much, baby. I’m not giving up on us.”

Newt scrunched up his face. “Don’t call me that. And I am giving up on us. We’re toxic. Two minutes with Thomas and Minho will prove it to you, I swear.”

“Oh, please, just because those two do things differently doesn’t mean they’re the gold standard.” Alby finally turned, to pull open the cabinet drawers.

”Maybe,” Newt kicked his toes on the hardwood floor in frustration, arms crossed over each other. “But they’re a standard. And bloody hell, Alby, you and me will never reach that.”

”So you’ve fallen in love with those two, then, is it?” Alby growled, turning back to him. His eyes were narrow, nostrils flared.

Newt gritted his teeth, then relaxed them. He wouldn’t call it love, love never meant anything good in Newt’s books. But Jesus H Christ, he was imagining having sex with them five minutes ago. and for some reason, they cared about him. He cared about them, too.

Newt looked at the floor. “Stop pretending you don’t know exactly where I hide my stash and go.”

Alby looked angrier, but also somewhat pleased with himself. He stomped over to the cabinet, reached behind it, grabbed Newt’s drugs, and gave him a sick smile as he turned around and left.

Newt waited for the sound of the apartment door slamming shut, then took long, sad steps to wrap his arms around Thomas, the closest of the two, encouraging Minho to join.

”You okay?” Thomas asked. Newt hummed into his shoulder, letting out a sigh.

”I want the love you have,” he said, sniffing a tear up his nose.

But Minho just kissed his nape, and told him, “Say the word and it’s yours.”

And there was something real in hearing that. Way more real than an imaginary lap dance.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the hiatus lol  
> I’m uploading this from my phone so the format might be a teeny bit different and also probably worse grammar than usual so i’m sorry if that bothers ya ;)  
> hope you enjoy this chapter,  
> leave love :)


	13. Kyle

“No fucking way."

The shower hadn't helped. Newt spent an hour on the couch, his face burrowed into Thomas’s neck, with Minho massaging his feet. But after a while, he couldn’t stay like that. He just couldn’t. He had to do something, get out of the apartment.

That was when Minho suggested they go to the club early, so Minho could get Newt accustomed to the place before his shift officially started.

His first ever shift. Newt couldn’t wait. And going out would do way more good than sitting in the apartment moping all day.

The Scorch was on the corner of a long street of fast food restaurants, other club plazas, and high-end clothes shops. The outside was rather discreet: ‘The Scorch’ in big pink letters, and silhouettes of naked men and ladies posing provocatively. The door and windows were painted black, but there was a clear sign saying ‘door’ and ‘adult entertainment’.

Minho unlocked the door, and guided Newt in, while Thomas locked up behind him. The inside was exactly how he’d imagined. Booths of leather and tables with comfy seats, podiums with poles dotted around with only a couple of meters distance, and a huge stage which every chair was facing. The walls and carpet were a sophisticated brown, with posters of girls and boys and writing that Newt wanted to read, but Minho walked him over to the bar. Behind the bar were bottles of various liquors, and two posters. Brenda and Teresa. Posing in their bras with the names “Agnes” and “Brandy" above their heads. Newt's face twitched into a half smirk.

"Brandy?" He asked, pointing at Brenda's poster. Thomas, from beside him, sighed.

"I know. I think it makes her sound cheap," he said. "But she likes it. Between you, me, Minho, Ben and Teresa, I think it turns her on."

Newt scoffed, and considering he'd been craving drugs almost all day, he was doing an awful lot of smirking.

That was when the trio heard the voice, somewhere in the rafters above them.

"No fucking way," it said, angry, frustrated, and echo-y in the empty hall.

Three heads shot to look up and find the source of the voice. Newt couldn't see anyone, but when he glanced at Minho, he followed his gaze to a black-haired man with his arms crossed, wearing a headset. Handsome, if you had a thing for suspicious facial scars and messy hair. Newt didn't...He didn't think so. The man was tall, or maybe he just looked that way because he was standing in the rafters.

"Ah, Captain, there you are," Minho said, with a hint of mockery in the address of 'captain'. He nudged past Thomas and threw his arm over Newt's shoulders. "This is Newt, the newbie."

The man's eyes were stern, and he let out a long groan as he stomped away, letting a door Newt couldn't see slam behind him. Within seconds, he appeared from a door left of the stage, swinging it open and marching over to Newt and co. On a mission.

When he was two feet from Newt, he stopped and crossed his arms again. "Not happening."

Newt frowned. Before he could let his excitement melt into disappointment, Minho dropped his arm from his shoulders and stepped forward. "What are you talking about, Gally? You said you needed all the help you could get! And you seemed ecstatic when I told you I had a guy waiter for you."

'Gally' scoffed, rolling his eyes before landing them sharply on Newt. "When you said 'guy', I didn't think you meant actual literal child. How old is he; fifteen, sixteen?"

"He's twenty-one," Thomas answered. Something told Newt he didn't much like Gally.

"Maybe so, but he looks like a kid," Gally replied, gesturing loosely with one floppy hand at Newt's torso. "Call me crazy but I am not letting him get all sexy and parade around this club with a face like that. Not to mention that he's a walking pile of bones. No one wants to fuck a skeleton."

Newt's heart sank. Why hadn't he foreseen this? Of course, this would happen. Of course, it would.

Minho grabbed his chin and pushed his head back. "Gal, look at this guy and tell me you can let a dashing lad like him get away. Just give him a chance."

Gally still wasn't convinced, and Newt pushed Minho's hand off of him, sighing. "I'll work for less than minimum wage. Really, you can pay me a dollar an hour and I'd still work like I was making millions."

"You didn't tell me he's British." Gally narrowed his eyes like he was fascinated suddenly, which admittedly scared Newt a bit. "So, take away two points for looking twelve and being a walking pile of bones, add one for being British..." he paused, and Newt realised he was waiting.

"Oh," he bit his lip, thinking hard. "And um...you can add one for...I'm...I can be way sexier than you'd imagine, I swear. I used to sex up local dealers to get drugs and sometimes they'd give me extra. And I'll fit into pretty much anything you give me to wear. Plus I kinda broke-up with my boyfriend recently so pretty soon I'm going to start getting desperate, and who better to hire to be a sexy waiter than someone who needs a rebound?"

He didn't mean that last one. He didn't believe in rebounds. If he was going to love someone, he would love someone properly.

Gally considered this for a moment. He still looked pretty cross, but Newt forced himself not to react when he pulled his t-shirt up his torso, examining his stomach, then rolled his sleeves up to check his arms. His face fell into a scowl. "Would make-up cover those track marks?"

Newt held his arm steady in Gally's surprisingly firm grip. "I should think so."

Gally chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. Newt wished he could say he didn’t make a pleading look, but he was really excited.

After a moment, he sighed. “Alright. I’m sure there’s some make-up backstage that might make you look a bit older.”

Newt let his smile feel tingly, as he reached out and shook Gally’s hand. “Thanks, boss. I won’t let you down.”

Gally shook his hand in return, and when he pulled back, he rolled his sleeves up busily. “Alright, well, I need to get back to the set list. The speakers have been playing up all day.”

Newt began to nod but stopped short at the sight of small scars on the veiny side of Gally's forearm. Track marks. Holy shit. Gally was a junkie too?

Minho interrupted his thought, “Oh, hey, I’ll come with you. Maybe my time with Ben will have taught me a trick or two about how to fix broken machines.”

For some reason, Newt wasn’t expecting Minho to be so open about Ben. Newt half felt like that whole relationship was just a bit of a taboo. He didn’t expect that Minho would be so open about it. Or maybe that was just Newt.

Gally made a noise. “The dancers will be here in an hour; anything that keeps you busy while you’re waiting, I’ll take it.”

Newt glanced up at Minho, smirking slightly as he gave a wink Newt’s way, and pecked Thomas’s lips. “Meet you backstage. Get some makeup on him and see what you can do.”

Thomas nodded, so Minho and Gally sauntered over to the door Gally had appeared from.

Newt felt better now that 'the captain' was gone. It was just him and Thomas, in a big empty hall.

”So...this Gally character?” Newt asked in a hushed voice. Thomas chuckled.

”Complete asshole,” he said as he began towards a door to the right of the stage - a different door to Gally's. “Until Minho, this was basically just a brothel masquerading as a strip club. He doesn’t give a shit about the dancers, or Minho, or you, probably. All he cares about is money and drugs." Thomas reached out and pulled the door open, gesturing for Newt to enter before him. “If you can inject it, Gally will. Stay away from him.”

Newt bit his lip, glancing around the room. It was big, but various shelves, clothes racks, and desks with those light up mirrors like in Hollywood cramped it a bit. It was dark, but Thomas flipped a switch, and the lightbulbs on the mirrors all lit up in succession.

Newt stepped towards the closest clothing rack, awkwardly pinching the corner of a swimsuit style lingerie set. Leather, which only made Newt's stomach twist further. He prayed they had some other uniform for the waiters.

"Glamourous." He let the clothing go and without thought, wiped his hands on his jeans. That was the first time in a long time he'd felt less morally corrupt than someone else. Not that he didn't respect strippers. He just had no idea who would get caught dead in these type of clothes, even for money.

Thomas gave him a smirk. "Don't worry. The staff outfits are over there."

He pointed a finger at a rack, all in black and pink, and thankfully, no leather. Apart from a belt hanging off of one pair of black skinny pants - pink and shiny, of course.

Thomas made his way over to it, analyzing the labels on the hangers. “What size?”

Newt sniffed. “Extra small.”

Thomas searched for a while, then pulled a pair of black tight pants and a black t-shirt with pink hems out of the line of fabric. He held them out to Newt, who took them and began to pull off his t-shirt.

A wave of self-consciousness over flooded him when he pulled his shirt over his head to see Thomas staring at him. Openly, like he was drinking in the image. When he noticed Newt blush, he cleared his throat and averted his eyes, but it was too late. The moment had been. Newt didn’t really know what it meant.

He pulled the t-shirt on, frowning when it was too big. Extra small was too big. He’d lost weight.

He noticed Thomas’s eyebrows furrow in concern as Newt tried not to tear up. How on earth had he _lost_ weight? He was heavier when he was _using heroin_.

“It suits you,” Thomas said, cutting the silence. Newt wanted to cry, and curl into Thomas’s arms, and forget himself, but Thomas was just standing there with a worried look, and Newt settled for blinking until his eyes were less watery.

”It’s...It’s a bit big,” he said, his heart falling so fast through the floor he thought he could hear it crack the wooden tiles. Alby would kill him if he found out he’d lost weight. Newt was well aware Thomas was not Alby, but it was obvious that Newt had been an extra small not long ago, and he was dropping. And Newt being so skinny was already an issue.

Thomas’s reaction was so lacklustre it actually threw Newt into a state of shock for a couple of seconds. He just held up a hand and turned to the clothes rack. “I’ll find the extra, extra small for you, wait a sec.”

Newt didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that.

Half a minute later, Thomas threw another outfit Newt’s way, pretty much identical to the first, except it was a tank top, not a t-shirt this time.

Newt felt nerves and pre-planned disappointment bubbling away inside him but when he pulled on the tank top, it was actually pretty cool. It fit him and made him look like a right lad about town. Most importantly, he looked fucking hot.

Thomas turned away, and Newt pulled the matching pants on, using the pink belt to secure them around his waist. They fit too. Shit, he looked good. Still, like a ten-year-old playing dress-up, but it was something.

He turned to Thomas, who grinned at him. He didn’t say anything, but reached out and prompted Newt to sit at one of the dressing tables. More specifically, one with room for two.

Thomas sat next to him, opening a fancy case of make-up Newt only recognized because he had a sister.

”What’s that for?” Newt asked, as Thomas dipped what looked like a thick paintbrush into a powder roughly the colour of Newt’s pale skin.

Thomas hummed thoughtfully. “Make-up might help you look a bit older. Plus you need to cover up those marks if you want any tips.”

Newt smirked. He couldn’t wait.

Thomas grabbed Newt’s hand, holding it against his thigh as he pressed the brush against his skin, helping the track marks blend into the rest of his tone. Newt tried not to think of how close his knuckles were to Thomas’s ding-a-ling, and instead focused on the magic of make-up.

It didn’t cover the marks completely, but they definitely looked to be much more faded. Newt gave Thomas a wild smile, as Thomas routed through the rest of the make-up, eventually settling on some eyeliner. He held it out to Newt so he could read the label.

”I do it for Brenda all the time, I can...if you want?” Thomas asked, with eyes that were asking permission to do something he felt was intimate. Newt shrugged, swallowing.

”Go ahead,” he said. Thomas nodded, taking a deep breath in before opening the eyeliner, and placing a delicate hand on Newt’s hair.

”Alright, close your eyes,” he murmured as the tip of the eyeliner pen came closer to Newt’s eyeball. “And try to keep still.”

Newt did as he was told, although he jumped a little bit when the cold gel pressed against his eyelid. He smiled to himself slightly. “I’ve never worn make-up before. It’s weird.”

Thomas let out a hot breathy laugh which hit Newt’s face. “There comes a time in every man’s life, Newton.”

Newt smirked, opening his eye without thinking. Luckily Thomas was taking a moment’s pause. “Bloody hell, Tommy. If you call me Newton again I might well burst into flames.”

Thomas giggled. “What, you don’t like it?”

Newt scoffed, shaking his head. “Newton Cambridge is the name of a prince, not a druggie.”

Thomas laughed at him, pushing some hair out of the way so he could move onto the other eye. “Close your eyes. Yeah, Thomas Stephen Murphy makes me sound like I ran track in public school and kissed boys under the bleachers. I mean, I did. But it’s so cliché, don’t you think?”

Newt opened his eye again, chuckling. “I don’t think it counts if it’s something that actually happens to you, Tommy.”

Thomas smiled. Newt closed his eyes again, and Thomas held his cheek to keep him steady.

He could feel Thomas’s breathing against him, a hot tide coming in and out.

It was new. Being touched so delicately. Alby was the kind to give you a slap on the back sooner than a kiss. No one ever treated him like his body was made of glass. He could feel how careful Tommy was trying to be.

He felt something cautious and warm graze against his lips, pushing in just a little bit, but staying soft.

Newt opened his eyes, wide and childlike as he watched Thomas apply strawberry chapstick onto his lips. Nervous, like he knew this was intimate and didn’t know how to go about it.

”I...” Newt began, watching Thomas’s lips like they were the bullseye on a target.

Thomas paused, a faint blush creeping through his cheeks. “It, um...It kinda feels like we’re about to kiss, doesn’t it? Is that okay?”

Newt wanted to nod. He wanted to nod until his bloody neck snapped. But it wasn’t okay. Not yet.

”Um...” Newt whispered. “I think...I think we shouldn’t. Not until we ask Minho and the girls if it’s okay.” He quickly added, “I cheated on George with Alby and I still haven’t forgiven myself for it, and I don’t want a repeat of that. I know you're...open or whatever, but I'm not used to that.”

Thomas nodded, forcing a smile. “Okay. Of course. And you look great, Newt. I’ll go see if Gally has a spare nametag for you. Wait here.”

Newt let out a sigh as Thomas walked away, shutting the door behind him and leaving Newt in the silent back room. Fuck. He felt so embarrassed.

He turned to the mirror, momentarily forgetting his face was made-up until he looked up and saw two rugged black rings around his eyes. He actually looked...He looked pretty good. Like the lead singer in a post-rock grunge-punk band from the early 2000s. But it suited him. He looked about five years older, which, considering he usually looked 16, meant he almost looked his age for once. And the eye makeup distracted from the sharp, angry cheekbones.

He still had this sense of sadness in him, learning that he’d lost weight. It had taken him a whole month to gain a single pound, but only half a week to go down an entire size?

Some people fantasized about having a body like his. Rachel used to always tell him he wished her addiction worked the way Newt’s did. And when Lizzy saw him when he packed up his things, she told him she’d kill for his metabolism.

There was something so horrifying about that. He wasn’t pretty. He wasn’t a goal. He was sick.

”Okay, I’ve got a choice between Ryan, Kyle or Sebastian,” Thomas swung through the door, flinging Newt’s train of thought off the rails. Newt turned to him, trying to scrap the skeletal image of himself burned into his mind.

”Take your pick,” Thomas held out three silver name tags out to Newt, who’s eyes went immediately to Kyle. That’s what he told Marcus his name was. Might as well stick to it.

He picked up the nametag, undid the badge and shoved the plastic needle through the fabric of his t-shirt. Thomas watched him do up the fasten, then smiled. “How d’you feel?”

Newt frowned at him. Before he could explain how absolutely horrible about himself he was feeling, the door flung open again, and a girl in a crop top walked in. Blond and curvy, and the girl that followed her had crimson dyed hair and reminded Newt of a black Jessica Rabbit.

The blond girl paused, blocking her friend to a stop. “Sorry, boys. A few of us decided to come in early since Teresa told us Minho was here. We need to get changed, are we interrupting you?”

Newt cleared his throat, nervous because the redhead was staring at him. Thomas spoke for him. “No, no, don’t worry about it, we’ll get out of your hair. This is Newt, he’s new. Newt, this is Sonya, and that’s Harriet. They’re Minho’s favourites.”

The girls smiled friendly at him, and Harriet set a Victoria’s Secret bag onto a nearby dressing table. “You look great, Newt. I love a guy in uniform. You starting tonight?”

Newt gave her a small smile. "Yeah. Thanks to Minho."

Sonya giggled, stepping further into the room and gently patting Thomas's arm. "Yeah, that man's an angel, alright. Now get out. We might be strippers but we do like to get ready in private."

Newt smiled at Thomas, who gave him a smirk, and grabbed his wrist to pull him towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez, a week? I'm sorry!  
> I hope you like this chapter, even if it has been a while :)  
> Thanks for reading,  
> Leave love :))


	14. A job! Friends! Ambitions!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: (spoilers)  
> -Drug use! Definitely could be very triggering. Please be careful!

Newt sat patiently on a barstool, smoking a cigarette and watching dancers parade in and give him smiles as they made their way to the dressing rooms. By 4 pm, all of the staff had arrived - Teresa squealed at him and ran over to give him a hug when she spotted him, but Brenda was in a rush because she had a tricky bra. The other waiting staff greeted him with half-smiles and hurried to get dressed, before sitting quietly around him. Half an hour later, Minho had all the dancers in costumes, rushing through rehearsals and set arrangements. Someone in the rafters adjusted the lights and made sure the songs were in the right order, and Minho would shout up to him every here and there to tell them where they were going wrong.

Thomas sat on a table behind the podium Minho had hopped onto, watching him mirror the dance moves being demonstrated on the stage. There was something so hypnotising about the whole thing. Not the dancing, although everyone was in skimpy outfits and Newt's tongue almost dried out from drooling over a brunet named Dante who kept getting called on to help the other dancers perfect their moves. It was hypnotising to watch Minho, and Thomas watching Minho.

Minho danced like he knew Thomas was watching, seducing him with every beat of the slow jazz rhythm. And Thomas watched like the show was all for him, greedily following his every move with a proud, hungry look in his eyes. It was like watching a gazelle cover itself in tomato ketchup in front of a starving lion. Newt could stare at them all night.

But 5 pm rolled around, and the stage cleared, and girls and boys dressed like suicidal gazelles slowly but surely began to claim podiums. Thomas disappeared into a booth in the corner as customers began to roll in, and Minho left through the Gally door.

Newt was kind of at a loose end. The waiting staff had scurried off to take orders, but Newt held back, unsure about what to do. He hid behind the bar, with a girl named Trina and a man with stubble who's nametag said Peter, but who didn't bother to introduce himself. Trina was nicer than him. She poured Pepsi into a pint glass and slid it over to him with a smile, a kind of peace offering. Newt gave her a smile as he took a small sip. "Thanks."

"No problem," she said. She was wearing an apron, and her dark hair was up in a ponytail that swung behind her when she glanced at the customer, which Peter rushed to service. "Shouldn't you be waitin' tables?"

Newt bit the inside of his cheek, frowning accidentally. "Uh, yeah. I'm new here. No one bothered to show me the ropes."

Trina smirked, chuckling slightly. “C’mon, _Kyle_. You know how to flirt, you know how to write down the name of an alcoholic beverage. Just ask, then come back, I’ll make it, and you take it over. It’s easy.”

Newt gave her a forced smile, grabbing a notepad and pen from the box with ‘Box’ written on it under the bar. He opened the notepad and headed towards a table with no drinks on it.

Teresa was dancing with a group to some pop jam Newt had heard on Alby’s radio, and Newt gave her a proud grin as he asked a 30-year-old man wearing a suit and holding a briefcase, “Can I get you anything, sir?”

The man looked towards him, his eyes wandering around Newt before settling and giving him a sly grin. “What would you recommend for a guy who just got demoted?”

Newt bit his lip. “Ooh, ouch. Whiskey and cocaine.”

The man chuckled, and Newt felt a sense of pride bubble into a smile. “Well, Kyle. How can I refuse? Could you fetch me your finest top-shelf whiskey?”

Newt gave him a grin, then turned away and headed back to the bar. Trina was all but waiting for him, with a kind smile. Newt set the notepad down and smiled back at her. “Finest top-shelf whiskey.”

Trina did as she was told, grabbing a bottle, a glass, and doing her thing. With a tray, even though he didn’t need it, he headed back to the table. He set the drink down. “I hope you and your demotion have enough cash to pay for that expensive whiskey, sir.”

The man raised his eyebrow, holding up a wad of cash. Newt giggled and held out his hand to receive it, but the man didn’t go for his hand. Instead, he tucked the papers under the leather belt around his hips, securing them there with a risky pat. Newt swallowed, stumbling on his words and trying to make his blush go down. Shit. Was this what this job was like?

Newt thanked the man and hurried back to the bar to differentiate tip from price, before scattering to another table. He worked hard, fetching more champagne than he’d ever seen in his bloody life. Surely, that wasn’t the classic strip-club beverage?

By eight, Ben had come in, Minho had been on stage twice, Brenda and Teresa had changed their outfits seven times, and Dante had come out to one of the podiums, grinding his giblets against the pole that made Newt want to drop to his knees.

He took three cocktails to a group of girls out on what looked like a hen party, then grabbed his notepad and headed towards the backstage door. This was his first shift, on his first day, at his first job. He was going to make a good impression. He opened the door and made a wide smile at the girls and boys re-doing their make-up in the mirrors. Teresa was on stage, but Brenda gave him a grin as he asked, "I'm doing a drinks round, does anyone want anything?"

"Aw, thanks, hun, but I'm on in five minutes, need to keep a clear head," she said, before grinning at someone behind Newt. “Hey, Min, d’you want anything to drink? Newt’s doing rounds.”

Newt swivelled and gave Minho a soft smile as he walked over, still wearing the leather pants and necktie from his last performance. He shook his head, pulling at the tie to loosen it, then pull it over his head. “No alcohol for any of my dancers. Especially not Harriet.”

”That was one time!” A voice shouted back from behind a clothing rack. Newt smiled, and Minho lassoed his tie around Newt’s neck, smirking.

”Maybe once the show’s over, Newt,” he chuckled. “But no one’s drinking or eating anything during working hours. Always ends horribly.”

Newt gave him a grin. “I’m really liking this job, Min. Thank you so much.” His tone serious all of a sudden, he dropped his gaze to Minho’s bare chest, focused on a freckle below his collarbone. “I don’t know where I’d be without you and Tommy. Well, I know exactly where I’d be. But...I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

Minho smiled and stroked his thumb against the tie around Newt’s neck. “We’re proud of you. Really, really proud of you.”

Newt looked up at his face, this feeling of...comfort in his stomach. Warmth. He didn’t know what to call it.

Minho made a face. “Oh, could you take this to Gally for me?” He reached to a dressing table to his left and picked up a CD. “He’s upstairs. Brenda still needs me to run through the lift in Toxic so I’d really appreciate it.”

Newt nodded, taking the CD from him and sending Brenda a grin as he left the room. He made his way to the Gally Door, as he’d taken to calling it earlier that night, and opened it to reveal a dimly lit staircase, cold and dank. The blue paint was chipping, and the room smelled of mould, which was a shocking contrast to the club. Newt climbed the hard stone stairs and opened the door that faced him at the top, ready to do his best “yes boss”.

Gally was sitting on a desk, next to a sound system, a cigar in his mouth, like some mafia boss, and a needle in his arm.

Newt stared at him for so long, too long. The syringe emptying into Gally’s body the way it had done into Newt a thousand times. He could almost feel the heat, the secondhand smoke without the smoke. The paradise in his bones, the relief circulating in his bloodstream. It was a feeling he knew all too well.

And now here he was, watching someone else absorb the rush he would think about in his dreams.

Gally knew he was there. He glanced up at the door, lingered there for a moment, and pulled the needle out of his skin. His eyes glazed, and his body slumped, and Newt could see the feeling pulsing around him like electricity.

His first thought was desperation. He wanted to grab the syringe and stab it into himself, take in every last dreg of Gally's hard high. Desperately, he wanted to feel what he knew Gally was feeling.

But his second thought told him no. He was better now. He had a job! Friends! Ambitions! He wasn’t that junkie kid without a path to follow anymore. He had to stick to this, he had to stay clean. What would Thomas say if he came home from his first day of work high? What would Minho do when Newt felt nauseous and was itching for a fix in the morning?

Gally pulled the cigar from his mouth. “Is that for me?”

Newt frowned and looked down at the CD. His whole body wanted it, a voice in his head screaming that he needed that rush. Needed it.

Silent, he handed over the CD, his skin goose-pimpling when Gally took it from him. He was so close. He could smell the chemicals in the air.

Gally fake-smiled, and gestured for Newt to leave the room. But he couldn't. He couldn't just go.

Gally stared at him, almost like he was reading his mind, and Newt bit his tongue. Even if he could speak, he wouldn't know what to say. The room was quiet, the only sound coming from downstairs, under the rafters - chatter and music and clinking glasses.

It was like the room turned upside down in half a second. Newt jumped onto the desk, wrapping Gally's belt around his bicep, while Gally pulled brown liquid into his syringe from a cotton bud sitting on a heated spoon. Then just as quick, Gally found a vein under his skin.

Then the world was in slow motion again. Newt's mouth against Gally's shoulder, as the older guy shoved down the plunger, feeding the itchy relief into his body.

God. God, god, god. It was heaven. For a split second, it was heaven.

The rush. The rush, the rush, the rush, the rush. The bloody rush.

He leant into Gally, eyes shut, mouth open, groaning like Gally had just made him mess his pants. But no. The high of the best sex Newt had ever had, times ten, didn't even come close.

Newt had missed this. The rush. The heat. He felt like he could soak into the floorboards like water, felt almost as though he was soaking into Gally. He could feel what was in his bloodstream invading him.

He exhaled his craving, and when he inhaled, he breathed in warmth. A warmth like nothing he’d ever felt outside of drugs before. He felt like he had angels watching over him, singing him to sleep, holding him in their arms, brushing their hands through his hair, dispelling any thought that could potentially go bad.

This…was his own personal paradise.

This moment of euphoria, these minutes of heaven. Nothing mattered, nothing hurt.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew when he came down from this, he'd go through hell. Hell. Real, hellish hell. The tide going out would leave the toxic waste in his body to settle, while the nice, warm water would leave him. And that would kill.

But none of that mattered right now. That would matter tomorrow. All that mattered right now was not getting brutally beaten up for this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a PSA: i don't condone drug use at all and I really don't want to romanticise it AT ALL. The reason this chapter was written this way is because it's what Newt would be thinking. drugs r terrible and ruin lives ok ok  
> there will definitely be more negative perspectives on this from others around coming up in the next couple chapters, please dO NoT think I'm trying to make heroin sound desirable  
> Also thank you for reading! I hope you liked this chapter! I know it's a little short, but I hope ya enjoyed it anyway  
> Leave love!  
> ((If you're in the UK and struggling with drug abuse, check out www.talktofrank.com for advice/help. They're really helpful. I don't know about outside of the UK, but definitely check it out if you need to))


	15. "Tommy"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> -Smut

It was nearing 10 pm, and Minho was tucking away costumes and changing into his standard t-shirt and jeans ensemble. The club closed at 12, although most of the time Gally kept it open until 2 and just told Minho to repeat dances. It was kind of ridiculous, straining the dancers just because a group of drunk guys wanted to see a pair of boobs they could find on the internet for free. But Gally would pay them extra, and typically, tips escalated after closing time because most of the patrons were either drunk or people who made poor life decisions.

Though tonight, Gally had left early, and left Steph in charge of the music. He didn't explain why. Minho was just glad he got the updated dance tracks playlist he gave to Newt to give him - there had been a mix-up on the original, and the CDs needed to be swapped out before the show even started, but it was too late, so the only hope was to do it between songs and hope no one noticed.

Minho was done for the night. “Cherry”, “Agnes” and “Crystal” had one last dance, then Teresa’s shift would end, so Minho got a headstart at getting ready to leave. He packed Teresa's things into her bag for her, with Brenda's half-help, because Teresa was clearly exhausted by then, and the sooner she could get home after this last routine, the less of a bad mood she'd be in in the morning.

When he'd pulled his hoodie over his head, Minho swung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way out to Thomas and Ben, who he'd seen sitting there all night. It wasn't rare that they'd do that, but usually, Thomas would leave eventually to get some sleep. He was probably excited to greet Newt after his first ever shift.

The words he'd said to Newt ran through Minho's head all night. "We're proud of you." They were. In some ways, Newt was Minho's hero. Sure, Minho had to deal with a shitty homophobic family, but apart from Ben, who's squeaky clean childhood meant Brenda teased him mercilessly, he had had the best life out of the lot of them so far.

Brenda's parents were immigrants, and she lived in the slums most of her life. Her parents got deported when she was 10, and she was left in foster care until she was adopted by the infamous Uncle Jorge. Everyone loved Uncle Jorge.

Teresa's parents were all kinds of emotionally abusive. She was raised on anti-gay protests and thinking yoga pants were against God, and the second she stepped out of the box they put her in, she was told all kinds of things no kid should ever hear from their parents.

Thomas...Well, Thomas.

Minho had a bit more luck. He was adopted in Korea by an American couple, sent to foster care too young to remember his bio parents as parents - despite meeting them later in life, and when he was twelve, they all moved back to the couple's hometown. He loved his parents, he really did. His real parents, not the man and wife who had some sex one time then tried to abort him. And his parents loved him back. Even when he started dating Thomas, and completely tore the rest of the family apart, his parents stuck by his side and loved him unconditionally. They raised him in Korean and adopted Korean traditions and culture into their life so he wouldn't forget his roots. They sang him Korean lullabies and obliged when he was sixteen and decided he wanted to know who his bio parents were.

Apart from, 'That One Time He Came Out On Christmas Eve In Front Of Grandma And The Two Year Disaster That Followed', he really hadn't had much hardship in his life.

And the things Newt had been through weren't even the kinds of things he could imagine, let alone live, and survive through. And still want to better himself, too. He still hadn't given up fixing his mistakes.

He was a man after Minho's own heart.

Newt had changed out of his uniform and was sitting next to Thomas and Ben in their booth. He looked absolutely exhausted, but Minho couldn't help smiling at his droopy eyelids and his messy hair. He raked his hands through it and gave him a wild grin. "Hey, Newt, how did your first day of work go?"

Newt nodded in response, forcing a fake smile. "Good, Min. It was really fun."

Minho frowned, raising an eyebrow. "D'you wanna try that again and be more convincing?"

Thomas chuckled. "I've been asking all night. I think he's just sick of answering."

"He's too tired, Min, and so am I," Ben added, grabbing his jacket from the corner of the booth and shoving one arm into it. "Would you give me a ride home?"

Minho smirked as he leant in to kiss Ben, watching Thomas and Newt grab their things ready to leave. "Ah, but what are the magic words?"

"Min," Ben laughed, his tongue flicked at Minho's lips. "Tom and Newt are just as tired as me. Best not make 'em wait in the car for you tonight, eh?"

Minho groaned, but still smiling, he pulled away and stood up straight, adjusting his backpack to keep the straps from dropping from his shoulders. Newt stepped out from the booth, and Thomas followed, but Ben wanted to say bye to Brenda, so he caught up when the other three were already in the car. Thomas and Newt sat in the back so when they pulled up at Ben's, the sexy blond swimsuit model pressed a hard wet kiss to Minho's face and hopped out, swaggering over to his apartment building's door and turning to blow Minho a kiss before going inside. Minho gripped his steering wheel, a sweet smile on his face. And he might even blush if he was alone, and lacked self-control, and was a thirteen-year-old girl.

He started up the car, and Newt tapped him on the shoulder. "I'm outta cigs."

Minho frowned, turning to look at him, only to find him climbing over the seats from the backseat to the front. "Already? Shit, Newt, what are you on, forty a day?"

Newt slid into the front seat, with a half-hearted scowl. "No. I only had a couple left so I gave them out for tips so I could get another pack."

Minho shrugged it off, starting towards the apartment. Thomas sighed, "There's a box in our top drawer, you can have that."

"Baby, you told me you got rid of that!" Minho exclaimed, only half serious because he knew Thomas reserved smoking for one night stands with boys who wore leather jackets, and when his dad was in town.

"Tommy, you're a secret smoker?" Newt asked, eyebrows furrowed softly.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "We all have vices, Newt. Boys who smoke, that's my type. I'm not proud."

Newt gave him a half-hearted smirk. "Really? I thought you were scared of addiction and stuff."

"What, a man in a polo shirt baking cookies turns you on?" Thomas replied. Minho scoffed, and Newt tutted.

"You know what I mean," he said, sitting back against the seat, his eyes glazing off onto the airbag sign on the dashboard. "Besides, since I started smoking, it's not as hot. All it makes me think is that their mouth probably tastes disgusting.”

Minho turned to glance at him, sending him a warm grin. "You have a type, Newt?"

"I guess." Newt kept his eyes on the road, so Minho did the same. "If you'd have asked me at fifteen, I'd have told you anyone who could write me poems and buy me flowers and be there for me when I needed them. Now, I think, I'm anyone's for a pack of menthols and a fake 'I love you'."

Minho let out a morose laugh, reaching over to touch Newt's hand, squeezing it before pulling back to change gear.

The ride was silent after that because Newt nodded off and leant his head against the window for the rest of the journey. Minho even turned down the radio so as to let him rest. Only when they got to the apartment did Minho give his shoulder a shake, and Thomas helped him into the building and towards the elevator while Minho grabbed his bag from the trunk and locked up the car before following them in. He had to wait for the elevator to come back down, so by the time he'd gotten to the apartment, Newt had locked himself in the bathroom, and Thomas was changing into his pyjamas. Minho waited for the perfect moment; when Thomas had pulled his shirt off, and pounced like a predator onto him, pushing him onto the bed. Thomas squawked, turning onto his front and wriggling to get out of Minho's ticklish grip.

"Payback," Minho exclaimed, and Thomas yelped, squirming towards the edge of the bed. "That's what you get when you wake me up with your damn taser hands."

Thomas slapped his chest playfully, his limbs flailing like a dying animal, and laughs leaking from his mouth. "Min! Minho, stop it! Min! Stop!"

Minho giggled against his lips, lowering one of his hands from Thomas's ribs. The smirk on Thomas's face was unmistakable, even though he was laughing and squealing and would not sit still because Minho's fingers were still poking him in his most ticklish spots.

"Alright. Alright!" Thomas yelled. "You've made your point. It won't happen again."

Minho ceased fire, pulling his hands away and rolling onto his back to lay next to Thomas. He made a satisfied face, and Thomas poked his tongue out from his lips like a kid. Minho smiled at him, reaching out to wrap an arm around him. "How was your night?"

"It was like any other night, Minho," Thomas smiled. "But hey, it's Brenda's birthday tomorrow. I was thinking we could all go out somewhere. Teresa said the beach, what do you think?"

"Oh, I love the beach," Minho replied, excited suddenly. "Did you get her a gift this year?"

Thomas shook his head. Brenda hated gifts more than she hated her birthday. She called it a cruel reminder of time passing, which was why for New Years, she drank wine, ate Flamin' Hot Cheetos and watched a disaster movie alone in the apartment as if the rest of her family and friends weren't out celebrating the new year without her. But to try to convince her to join was to hear her speech about the societal lie that growing older was supposed to discourage one from doing dumb things and having fun. It was not worth it.

Minho gave him a look. "I think I'm going to get her something. Even if it's just a bottle of wine. She'll be twenty-three, Tommy, it's not like she can try to convince me she's growing too old for it to be celebrated."

Thomas didn't say anything, and at first, Minho thought it was because he'd made a valid point. But after a second, Thomas's mouth spread into this huge grin. "Did you just call me Tommy?"

Minho furrowed his eyebrows. "No. No, I said Thomas."

"You said Tommy," Thomas replied. He looked so made up like that one slip-up had made his entire night. "D'you like that name on me?"

"No, I said Thomas,  _ja gi_ ," Minho replied, feeling his face heat up the slightest bit. It was an accident. "Tommy only suits you in a British accent."

Thomas laughed, shaking his head violently. "No. No way. You said Tommy. I heard you, don't try to deny it."

Minho scoffed, rolling onto his back in an embarrassed but jokey strop. "Alright, maybe, but it was an accident. Let it go, would ya-?"

The sound of the bathroom door clicking open made Minho stop, momentarily forgetting that Newt was showering or brushing his teeth or whatever he was doing in the en-suite.

When he came out, he had a cigarette between his lips, and his eyes had been scrubbed hard in an attempt to get the make-up off. Newt had given up halfway through, though, and had just gotten into his pyjamas. Well, unbuttoned his shirt and taken off his jeans, which he dropped on the floor as he walked over to the bed, and climbed onto the end.

Minho gave him a smile, but Newt didn't care. He was definitely more tired than before, his eyes closed all the way on his crawl to the other side of the bed, his movements slow and lethargic, even as he dabbed his cigarette out on the bedside table. Thomas shuffled aside to make room between the engaged couple, but Newt didn't lay there. Instead, he crawled his way to Thomas's face, sitting on his chest, and leant down to kiss him. Minho stared at him, so consumed by shock he couldn't even feel the secondhand butterflies from the way Thomas's tongue danced with the blond's. He sat there frozen, watching, while Thomas grabbed Newt by the hips, and spun him over onto his back, his fingers pressing into Newt's bare skin.

Minho felt like he was in a fucking wet dream. What the fuck was going on?

Thomas pulled back, eyes open and wide and as though he'd breathed Newt's thoughts into his lungs. "Newt, you didn't want this earlier." His voice was cautious, and even to Minho, it was as if it was just him and Newt in the room. "You- You don't want this now." Minho frowned, sending his eyes over to Newt's crotch. Thomas was right.

Newt shook his head, running a hand down Thomas's chest, kissing him again as if nothing he'd said mattered to him. It was odd because Newt clearly was very into it. But Newt Jr didn't care at all.

Still, that was good enough proof for Thomas, because he let out a groan, and threw his hand out to grab Minho by the shoulder. Minho's blood turned electric when Newt's fingers wrapped around his hand, like an invitation, and holy fuck was he invited.

Newt pulled on his neck, yanking him into him so the only air he could breathe smelled like Newt and the only sensation he could focus on was chapped but warm lips against his own. Minho thought he might throw up butterflies if he opened his mouth, so he lowered himself to Newt’s neck and nibbled at his skin with his teeth.

Newt said nothing, just went right to kissing Thomas.

Thomas pulled Newt’s pants down in some attempts to get his downstairs in the mood, but Minho kept kissing him, falling hard and fast into this man’s hypnotising grasp. He was beautiful. Minho might actually be a little bit in love.

Thomas took control, biting on Newt’s neck and whispering things to him that made Minho shiver in his bones. Minho kept his hands in Newt’s hair, kissing his face and his cheeks but mostly just his lips. He’d have never guessed they’d really end up like this. He hoped, yes he did, but he didn’t think it would really happen.

There was something in the way looked at them; like they were on a different level to him, it seemed like he thought Thomas and Minho were too good for him. Maybe there was a part of Minho that agreed a little bit.

The give and take was a game of tug-o-war, forever switching from selfless to selfish. But there was one thing that didn’t change at all, and that was Newt. Newt gave and gave and fell the fuck in love with Minho back. Newt didn’t even finish, he never even got hard. He was too busy staring at Thomas as if the sun and moon revolved around him, and clutching Minho’s arms like they were the only things that could offer him protection from the world.

”Minho?” Thomas was groaning into Newt's neck, clutching Minho's fingers. It was Newt who'd whispered, his hands clutching Minho’s other hand and arm like a snake climbing a tree. With Newt’s body not co-operating, their options were limited, so Thomas took control, even though Minho was used to Thomas being a bottom. Thomas never stopped asking if this was alright. It was hard to tell, and the last thing they wanted to do was make Newt feel like he was just being used.

Minho kissed his chin, nodding in response. “Do you want us to stop?”

Newt shook his head, eyes closing. “I need to tell you something.”

Minho glanced at Thomas, but he was too wrapped up in other things to be listening. He pressed a kiss to Newt’s bottom lip. “What is it?”

Newt took in the breath that Minho had let out, frowning deeply. “I’m a junkie.”

Minho chuckled, kissing him again. “I know, baby.”

Newt opened his mouth to say something, but Minho gave him a smile, and he shut his mouth. 

There was something here. This was the start of something. Something good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really fuckin sorry for being so late with this chapter. I took a couple days out for Mental Health Reasons™ and I really struggled to get in the right mind-frame to write this chapter so I hope you like it.  
> Please let me know what you think!  
> Leave love!


	16. The B Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> -drug use

Newt felt his body relax as he pushed the plunger on his syringe down, draining the needle into himself until he felt the rush. It didn’t last long. Truth be told, after a while of his addiction, Newt stopped feeling high at all, and just shot up to keep from feeling sick. Withdrawal was hell. Fucking hell.

It had started before Newt got his dose, nausea, and achy pain in his bones. That was nothing compared to real withdrawal. Take it a few more hours without dosing and Newt might not have been able to act so much like he was just in the bathroom, doing his business.

It was a trap, really. Newt shot up once, he thought it felt good, so he did it again a couple days later, to take the edge off, then it became an everyday thing, and then it had got him. He couldn’t stop, he wanted to but the withdrawal wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t stop.

Every damn junkie had said “just once” before they’d lost everything to the fucking wonderdrug. Newt included. George shot him up as a present for his 16th birthday, and Newt thought it was fantastic so they made it a regular thing, to get high under the bleachers then make-out. Then Newt was hooked, and the touching and kissing was payment now. It wasn’t fun anymore. Newt couldn’t even get hard when he was high anymore. He made it a game to get high before George could start the whole thing, so he’d be out of it, and could just enjoy his high.

Maybe that was why Newt made the first move last night. As some sort of payment for being high. Maybe it was an apology.

But waking up next to Minho and Thomas hurt him so bad. He’d kissed them both, and joked about the fact that they were all naked in bed again, then had gotten up, picked up his jeans, and cooked up heroin in their bathroom. He’d never felt more like a phony.

Newt threw his paraphernelia down the back of the toilet, hiding it well before turning to the bathroom door and stepping out, nervously exhibiting himself to the men in his bed. He only had boxers on, and at that, they were Minho’s and slipped down his hips.

Thomas had half of his body out from under the covers, stretched out and mid-yawn when Newt appeared to him, hands behind his back and lip bit because he was still reeling a little from his injection. Minho wasn’t covered at all, on his front and scrolling through his phone. But when Thomas yawned, bringing attention to Newt, he turned himself over and gave Newt a grin.

”I don’t know what the hell came over you last night,” Thomas said, with a smile. “Fuck, Newt, it was like you were hypnotised.”

Newt gave him a small smile. Someday, he’d tell them he was high last night. But they didn’t need to know yet.

They might think Newt didn’t want it. And he did, definitely. Granted, he didn’t want it to have happened like that; Newt high, with no consent from Minho and Thomas’s partners. But he’d wanted it still.

A flash made Newt jump, and he turned to see Minho give him a smirk from behind his phone. “Can I send that to the group chat? Please?”

Newt frowned at him. “What is that? What are you talking about?”

Minho glanced at Thomas, who nodded at him. Minho turned to grab Newt’s phone from the bedside table. Newt made a face, but Thomas began to sit up. “It’s alright, he’s just adding you. It’s where we all stay in contact - the girls and Ben and us. Since you’re kinda one of us now, it’s only right to add you.”

Newt narrowed his eyes. “One of you?”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah. Well, you’re our roomie. And unless last night was a one time occurance, you’re part of this thing.”

Newt didn’t say anything, so Thomas prompted him with, “Was it? A one time thing, I mean.”

Newt bit his lip. “We...We should probably talk to the others. I don’t want to...”

Thomas understood. He smiled. “Okay. That’s fine.”

Minho threw Newt his phone, but Newt’s slow reflexes meant it fell to the floor. Luckily, it didn’t have a scratch, and it was still on his messaging screen, with five new contacts chatting back and forth.

**Minho: 1 image attached.**

**Ben: r those ur undies?**

**Teresa: Ahh! Min! No way!**

**Ben: wait u and tom or just u?**

**Brenda: you’re kiddin ben, as if thomas would pass up that opportunity**  

Newt closed his phone, shaking his head. Whatever.

Thomas stood up, giving Newt a smile that made him feel bad for getting high behind his back. He reached out to touch Newt’s hair, running his warm fingers through it to get it away from Newt’s face. “Thanks for last night. It really was great. Could I kiss you?”

Newt glanced at Minho, who was still on his phone, and nodded quietly. No harm in just a kiss. Especially after the night he’d had.

Thomas smiled at him, leaning in to press a morning breath kiss against Newt’s lips. It seemed he’d only intended a peck, but Newt kissed him back, reaching up to hold his hair. It was guilt. And also desperately wanting to make-out with Thomas. He’d tell the guys he was high some other time.

Thomas stepped backwards to sit himself on the bed, and Newt followed him, falling onto his lap to avoid pulling away from him. Thomas’s mouth was a smile, his mouth missing Newt’s lips for his chin, then lowering. He buried his face in Newt’s throat, his hands going right under Newt’s boxers.

Newt bit his lip, glancing at Minho. Minho who was taking pictures like the bloody paparazzi.

It wasn’t like Newt was embarrassed about his lack of ability to get it up. It was the gear. His body was too relaxed for that stuff.

But Thomas and Minho didn’t know that.

Thomas pulled back from him, with a serious face. “Newt, what is with this? Are you okay? You’re so young to have issues down there, baby, d’you wanna talk about it?”

Newt swallowed. “I...I really... It’s just the drugs.”

Thomas gave him a sad smile. “It’s okay. You know, there’s a lot of things that we can do without it.”

Newt pulled back, stepped away. Jesus fucking Christ. He was high. He was high and lying to two boys who he cared a fuckton about. This wasn’t right, it would never be right.

Minho frowned. “You alright?”

Newt nodded, letting out a sigh. “Yeah. Sorry, I just...”

Minho made his way over, kneeling at the edge of the bed to reach Newt’s hand.

”Is this about Ben and the girls?” Thomas asked, placing his hand on Minho’s the way married couples did in movies. “You’ve never been in an open relationship before, have you?”

”No, Tommy, it’s not that.” Newt squeezed Minho’s fingers, giving him a small smile. “I’m just...It doesn’t matter.”

Thomas kept asking but Newt picked up his phone, catching up with the chat.

**Minho: 3 Images Attached.**

**Ben: fuk**

**Brenda: hold tight we’re coming over**

**Teresa: No we’re not. I made Brenda breakfast in bed. The birthday girl isn’t leaving until she’s finished her french toast.**

**Brenda: yes i’ve already lectured her on why i’m not celebrating, but we’ve all tried T’s french toast**

**Minho: Make more, we’ll be right over.**

Newt raised his head to watch Minho stand up, baring all to the window, before picking up some clothes from the floor like he had all the time in the world. Thomas wasn’t all that over asking Newt what was wrong but once the blond told him to back off, he did.

Minho swaggered over and handed Newt his jeans, giving him this sweet smile. “Don’t feel bad about not getting Brenda anything. She hates her birthday.”

Newt bit the inside of his lip, frowning. He felt like there was so much he needed to say. But now wasn’t the time. Thomas was in the bathroom anyhow, and Newt didn’t think he'd be able to do it twice.

In silence, he pulled his pants on and threw on a t-shirt that was about five sizes too big but made Minho giggle, so he kept it on. Then up they went, in the elevator, because Minho was still putting his socks on and he couldn’t do that going up the stairs. It was only one floor higher, but Newt appreciated it anyway. His brain was a little droopy after his dose.

Thomas said he’d catch up with them, so it was just Minho and Newt pushing their way into the apartment without knocking. Newt would have knocked, but Minho gestured for him to follow so he had no choice.

The apartment was just like Thomas and Minho’s. Well, Newt’s now too. The layout was just the same, only dotted with more ornaments, and with picture frames of five happy people, all in their own little groups. Minho and Ben handing Brenda Mow, to what looked like, her great shock. Teresa, Brenda and Thomas sharing an icy drink with three straws. A much younger Thomas and Minho beaming with Minho showing off a new-looking engagement ring on his finger. The five of them dressed as movie characters, on Halloween, most likely. Teresa and Brenda with their arms around Minho outside the club.

“Hey, boys.” Teresa was in the kitchen, filling the toaster with white bread. She grinned at Newt, as Minho pressed a kiss to her cheek in a domestic kind of way.

”Good morning,” Minho smiled. “Where’s the birthday girl?”

Teresa nodded to what would be the bedroom door in the other apartment. “Still in bed. And don’t use the B-word, she almost combusted this morning. Hey, Newt, I heard you didn’t get much sleep last night so I made you a cup of tea.”

Newt wished he could feel whether he was blushing or not, but he was too heated from using not so long ago. Teresa held out a mug, with a cheeky smirk, so Newt took it, thanked her and followed Minho to the bedroom.

Brenda was still in bed, like Teresa had said, and was eating a mighty plate of french toast off of a fancy breakfast-in-bed tray that kinda looked like the ones at the club. She looked up at the men in her bedroom doorway, and smiled wide, toothy and proud.

”Are the rumours true, Mr. Park?” She asked. Minho jumped onto the bed next to her and stole a piece of her breakfast.

Newt sat on her other side, careful not to spill his drink, as Minho said, “Yes, indeed, Miss Despain.”

Newt frowned at the two of them. He was embarrassed. He was ashamed. He wouldn’t trade last night for the world.

Still, it wasn’t right. This open relationship thing, to Newt, shouldn’t just mean hooking up with whoever, whenever, wherever. Maybe that wasn’t how the others saw it, but Newt would feel miles more comfortable if he knew Ben and Teresa and Brenda consented to the stuff that happened last night with their boyfriends.

It felt like cheating to Newt, and he wasn’t in the headspace to joke about it like it was just another hook-up.

He sipped his tea to avoid saying all that out loud.

Brenda grabbed another slice of toast, eyebrows wiggling. “So...details...?”

Minho smirked, glancing at Newt. “Ah, Bren, I don’t kiss and tell.”

Brenda scoffed, while Newt let out a breath, relieved. “Yes, you do. You do every night. Do you want me to check the group chat because I have evidence.”

Newt kept his lips around his mug, as Mow jumped into his lap, purring as she curled into a circle and closed her eyes. Newt smiled to himself, lip bit, as he pet her soft gray fur.

”She likes you,” Brenda smiled, and Newt grinned at the topic change.

”Well, she likes you for now,” Teresa brought in another tray and set it on Minho’s lap, before squeezing into the small space between Newt and Brenda, flinging an arm around her girlfriend. “When she’s grumpy, she doesn’t like anyone.”

”Except me,” Brenda corrected her, with a smirk.

Teresa laughed, her eyes all lovey when she looked at Brenda. “Except you. You’re her favourite. Seriously, sometimes I think I could leave and you wouldn’t care as long as Mow was here.”

Brenda’s eyes went the same as Teresa’s, only dark brown and not sky blue. “Oh, T. Of course I would care. Who would look after Mow when I was visiting Uncle Jorge?”

Teresa giggled, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips. Newt watched them in silence. Once again, Alby crept into his mind. It had only been one day, and Newt had already relapsed and had sex with his roommates, yes, plural.

Maybe Alby was right. Thomas and Minho and whoever else was part of their little family wasn’t the gold standard of relationships. Maybe the standard was just two people who loved each other, and kept each other safe from harm.

Newt felt his fingertips tingling. No. He’d never met a single person who’s way of keeping someone safe was to attack them whenever they stepped out of line.

Besides, he was starting to doubt how much he loved Alby in the first place, if two handsome strangers could come along and completely replace him in only a few days.

Teresa pulled back, before pressing another short kiss to Brenda’s mouth, then moving away and shoving some toast into her mouth.

”Happy birthday, beautiful,” Teresa smiled. Brenda groaned, shaking her head, and was about to say something, when Thomas appeared in the bedroom doorway.

He cleared his throat, and smiled wide as he looked in at the four on the bed. Five, including Mow.

It took a moment, but it occurred to Newt that there wasn’t one person on the couch that Thomas wasn’t romantically involved with. not including Mow. That was four people that Thomas claimed to love, or at least like. Four people. Did a person have that much love in them? Could they cope, without internally combusting?

Newt looked down into his mug as Thomas crawled over the bed, kissing them each one by one, which kinda made Newt’s stomach turn.

It all seemed so wrong. Perverted, in a way. He got that someone could love two people at once, maybe even more - he’d proved that with George and Alby, and maybe even now with Thomas and Minho. But the idea of faith and trust in a relationship was to resist the temptation to fall harder for the second person. That was the whole point.

These people had completely turned that on its head, and Newt couldn’t help seeing Alby’s look of disapproval in his mind.

Thomas pressed a kiss to Teresa’s lips, then looked at Newt, with raised eyebrows. Newt knew what he was asking.

He glanced at the others, and for all Newt’s doubts about the morality of it all, they were egging him on. Brenda had a smirk, and Teresa nodded like the go ahead, and Minho smiled wide.

Thomas was still looking at him, expectant but not pushy. This was it. This was the permission Newt had wanted this whole time.

And he still couldn’t do it. He looked down at his mug again, trying to block out the corner of his vision, where he could see Teresa turn to look at Brenda.

Newt hadn’t really made his shaking head very obvious, so he cleared his throat awkwardly.

”Tommy, that’s four people,” he said, avoiding their eyes. “That’s too much. That’s so much.”

Thomas sounded frowny but Newt didn’t look up. “What are you talking about?”

”One boyfriend was more than enough for me,” Newt replied, looking at Teresa and co before back at his coffee. “You can’t expect me to ever be okay with being a fourth in a long list of people you say you have feelings for, Tommy. Same goes for Minho. Three’s just as ridiculous as four, and so is two. You can do your thing, that’s fine. But I’ve had a hard enough time loving one person. I can’t participate in this.”

It was quiet for a moment, only Mow purring could be heard. Then Teresa said, “I know how you feel.”

Newt shook his head, pushing Mow off of his lap to stand up, away from Thomas and his look of disguised disappointment. Newt wanted just to kiss that away, but his body still tugged him out of the bed and standing above to foursome. “What if I’m not the person you want me to be? What if you realise I’m not the guy you wanted and hurt me just like Alby did? I barely survived Alby, I don’t think I’d last a single punch with either of you two. And the way I see it, double the boyfriends, double the chances. It’s a risk I don’t think I can take.”

”Newt...” Teresa began, pulling Mow onto her thighs.

”Not to mention how weird it is for me already,” Newt continued, “that you devote yourself to more than one person at a time. What if I feel weird about sharing? What if I get jealous, do I just have to go? I couldn’t do that. I’m sorry.”

Thomas reached out, touched his hand. “Relax, Newt. Relax. We’re not going to get mad at you. That’s your decision.”

Newt flicked his gaze over to Minho, who was smiling slightly, nodding in agreement.

Newt bit his lip. He felt a little embarrassed.

Thomas gave him a sad smile. “Look, I ran a bath downstairs but I can shower here. Why don’t you go downstairs and try to chill out a bit?”

Newt frowned, scraping his hair out of his face. But he still nodded and headed to the door. Honestly he was glad for the excuse to leave. He wasn’t in any place to try to be fun or happy this morning, if he ever was.

Minho began to say something to Brenda as Newt made his way out of the apartment and into the elevator.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, chewing his lip at the messages from Alby, Winston and Fry saying the bullshit B word he’d been dreading since he was bloody eighteen.

**Happy 22nd Birthday!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you all for your sweet comments! I promise i’m doin my best at updating ASAP but i have a lot going on at the moment and it’s really hard.  
> Thanks for reading anyhow!  
> Leave love :)


	17. Sunset Watching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> -Vomit  
> -drug cravings  
> -descriptions of heroin withdrawal  
> -talking about death

3:56, Ben sent a message to the group chat saying “beach in ten. sunset watching. race ya.”, so Minho tossed Newt a pair of swimming trunks and a t-shirt and they all piled into the car.

Newt frowned at the neat little bow he’d made in the strings on Minho’s trunks. Even that, so tight it indented Newt’s skin, barely held them up around his pencil waist. Thomas and Brenda sat in the back next to him, wearing flip-flops and sunglasses and singing along to the radio. Teresa was in the front seat blowing up a beach ball and Minho was driving. Newt kept frowning at the bow, even though he knew it probably looked like he was staring at his crotch.

His relaxing bath had just made him nod out, and the rest of the day was spent on the couch while people 'didn't' celebrate Brenda's birthday upstairs, now he was tired. And he was still embarrassed about rejecting Thomas.

He’d insulted their entire relationship. Saying out loud that four people in a relationship was too much pretty much just proved to everyone how not okay he was with their whole thing at all.

Even if they didn’t act like it, they must have realised he’d disrespected their entire thing.

Apart from a few glances, Minho and Thomas went on as normal. Teresa and Brenda did too, Brenda glaring at anyone who said the word “birthday” in her presence.

Newt felt the same way. The thought that he was actually twenty-two now made him queasy. He thought he’d have everything sorted out by now. He thought he’d either be dead or married to Alby with an online course to get an art degree and a career path. He had none of that. Instead, he was back on smack, cramped into a car with two people he cared about that he was lying to. What had happened to that dumb sixteen-year-old who’d thought he was invincible?

When Dr Gallagher had said the words, “Mr Cambridge. If you keep this up, you won’t make it to twenty-two.” it had settled this idea into his head. If he made it to his twenty-second birthday, he was invincible. It was a sign that his addiction didn’t get to decide life and death for him.

But the years passed, and suddenly the Catch-22 was a terrifying scenario. Not to mention that he thought he’d be years sober by now, but if he made it, he was supposed to do things. Get a job, marry Alby, or meet the handsome poet he wanted when he was fifteen. Go to school, fix his life from the horrible mess it had become. But here he was, high, frowning at swimming shorts that were about five sizes too big and feeling really really worried about where he was going to get his next dose. He felt so defeated by his own addiction, and the worst part was he didn’t even want to stop. He just wanted to feel his bloodstream burn him and for his eyes to close to keep his life away from the “joy” that was dope.

They got to the beach, and everyone hopped out of the car. Thomas and Brenda, hands-held, strolled down the beach as if they had a destination, while Teresa went straight to the water. Ben and Minho followed Thomas, so Newt quietly trailed behind them.

Ben threw his arm around Minho’s shoulders, holding a giant red cooler, and wearing reflective sunglasses. “Tryna steal my man, Newtie? I heard about last night.”

There was sand in Newt’s shoe. He frowned down at it, pretending he hadn’t heard.

”Actually, Benny, Newt’s decided he’d be more comfortable if we stayed platonic at the moment,” Minho answered for him.

Ben didn’t make a joke about that. He just nodded, hummed and sent Newt a smile. That was something Newt did like about the open relationship thing. They took it seriously. It wasn’t just hooking up with random strangers and inviting people to join. They talked to each other and accepted what they felt. It almost made Newt like the idea, he’d spent years without Alby ever validating his feelings. But Ben kissed Minho and it was weird all over again.

”Well,” Ben smirked. “If it ever does happen again, I wanna join. Promise you’ll let me. Newt, you’d be okay with that, wouldn’t you?”

”No comment,” Newt murmured. Ben gave him a grin and winked flirtatiously at him. Newt forced a smile. He couldn’t smile for real just yet.

The trio reached a cove of rocks, where Thomas and Brenda had set out towels and were giggling with each other about shapes Brenda drew in the sand. Ben set down the cooler and opened it to reveal a couple dozen beer bottles and two cans of cola. Ben offered Newt some cola, but the blond declined. Instead, he climbed a few of the rocks, and sat himself down on a metre high cliff edge, dangling his feet and taking in the salty sea air.

He could remember the last time he went to a beach. He was ten, and the family had collected tokens from the newspaper and cashed them in for half price off of a holiday park in Blackpool. The weather was chilly, and there were about a hundred tourist attractions surrounding the beach. But Lizzy wanted to watch the crabs, so they all got into beachwear and sat next to a rock pool, watching tiny crabs scurry along the stones. All weekend, they spent hours on the sand, while mum and dad gazed desperately at the shiny bright lights of the sights to see. But Newt didn’t care. Lizzy was so happy to watch the creatures.

This beach was different. The sand was brighter, and the sun was hotter, and the water was bluer. But Newt would still rather be back in Blackpool naming starfish with his sister.

He leant on his palms, letting his pale stature absorb some sun, and watched down at the people he considered friends.

Minho and Ben were arguing over which songs to play - Minho wanted Britney but Ben was a Christina kind of guy. Tee was drying her hair with her towel, stripped to a bikini that made her boobs look bigger than they were when Newt accidentally saw them. Thomas kissed Brenda’s bottom lip, grinning about something Newt didn’t care about.

Should he be jealous? Cause he did feel that way a little bit. It was just so bizarre to watch someone he felt something with, feel something with someone else. Maybe that was the whole point of their whole thing. But Newt couldn’t help it. He was so unused to the idea of loving more than one person, openly, in front of each other. It was crazy to him. Not that cheating was any better, and he’d know. But didn’t Minho get insecure about himself when Thomas kissed Brenda?

Cause that’s how Newt felt. A little bit. Brenda and Teresa and Ben all had paying jobs, happy relationships, healthy mental states, it seemed, and no baggage, as it looked. Newt was a depressive junkie with no direction in life. He didn’t fit in. He couldn’t be Thomas’s fourth, or Minho’s third, or even Alby’s one. He belonged to someone as trashy as him.

”This seat taken?” Teresa asked, and Newt glanced up at her as she sat beside him. She wore a smile that said she had something to say. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

”Yeah,” Newt agreed, looking out at the calm sea and blue sky horizon. He wished it would pull him in and swallow him up. He’d stay there, floating, for eternity.

”Newt, can I talk to you about something?” Teresa said in a hushed voice, glancing behind her at the group. When Newt nodded, she gave him this soft smile. “I bet you’re really confused about last night. I mean, should you feel bad for sleeping with two men with partners? Should you forget it and hope no one mentions it again? Are you ashamed of yourself or do you want it to happen again? It all runs through your head. I know how you feel.”

Newt frowned at her, glancing at Thomas, who had a pair of sunglasses on and was soaking up the sun now. “Is that how you got into this whole thing? Do the boys make a habit of three-ways with strangers?”

Teresa smirked. “No. Thomas and I met because of Minho. This one night, I was leaving the club, and this guy followed me out. My apartment wasn’t far from the club then, so I used to walk. I got scared because I was kinda new to the job and I wasn’t used to creepy guys following me home so I called Minho, cause I figured if I was on the phone the guy would leave me alone, y’know? The club was really lax on security back then but Minho knew right away that something was wrong. He asked me a bunch of questions with code words and stuff then told me to walk towards his apartment. I was scared because it was a long way away but Min stayed on the phone until this guy ran up to me and gave me a kiss and called me Agnes, which no one calls me outside of the club. Tom’d ran all the way from his apartment to pretend to be my boyfriend while accidentally flirting with me.”

Newt smiled just a little bit.

Teresa grinned at him. “We got back to his apartment, and Ben was there, watching a movie. And when Minho got home, he kissed them both and called them both ‘baby’. That threw me off. Firstly, I had totally been crushing on Thomas the entire night. And secondly, two boyfriends? Two?!”

Newt had to chuckle. Teresa laughed too. “I was so confused. Worse than that, I thought it was terrible. It wasn’t right to me at all.”

”How did you decide to join them?” Newt asked. He didn’t see Teresa being that judgemental about the whole thing, although she was part of it now.

Teresa smiled slightly as if recalling something important. “Have you ever been in love?”

Newt frowned. He glanced behind him, at Minho, who was dancing to Beyoncé with Ben, and Thomas, with a mound of sunscreen on his nose. He supposed he had been. With Alby, and Georgie. Oh, how he’d loved Georgie.

He nodded, turning back to Teresa. The girl grinned at him because she didn’t know that love had always been hell to Newt.

”You see him, and you get that knot in your stomach. This pit of butterflies that you want to go away, but beg to stick around. He does something small, like smile really wide or blushes at a joke, and you fall in love all over again. Like he’s casting a spell. You’d do anything for him, and he’d do anything for you. It’s magic just to be around him.” Teresa closed her eyes for a moment, grinning like the cheshire cat. “Minho and I had a conversation about it. How much we both loved Tom. That was the first time it really sunk in that Tom wasn’t there to be shared. He was there to be loved, and to love back. And so was I, and so was Minho, and Ben. I love him. So do Minho and Brenda. That’s what this whole thing is about. You love who you love. I grew up in a homophobic family, you have no idea the relief I got from being around so much acceptance and openness. It’s been amazing.”

Newt paused, bit the inside of his lip nervously. “Teresa?”

”Yeah?”

”My first boyfriend...” Newt turned away from her, staring down at his lap. “Got sick. It happens when all your friends are junkies. I was eighteen, I’d just moved in with Alby and I got a call from my buddy, Darnell, saying George’s test came back positive. We were terrible together, we used each other for drugs and sex and I cheated on him for like a year. But when he died, I was broken. I loved him more than I’ve loved anyone in my life. I even forgave him for introducing me to the bullshit world of addiction, back then, at least. When Alby realised that, he turned on me. Something happened to him. Everyone I’ve ever loved has ruined me. Even my parents. I feel like an idiot even considering letting myself fall for anyone again. And I barely survived being with George, I can’t have twice the heartbreak at once. It’s terrifying. I’m scared of getting hurt.”

Teresa was quiet for a moment, and Newt glanced up at her to see her staring out at the sea, with a serious look on her face. The wind combed through her hair, blowing it behind her head, and a wave rolled over Newt. He could do with his next dose soon.

He felt a pinch in his arm, and yanked it back, yelping. "Ow! What was that for?"

Teresa smirked, smug. "That's the worst you'll ever get hurt by anyone in this family, Newtie."

Newt's mouth hung open slightly, he didn't know what to say. So Teresa continued, "Sure, sometimes I worry that as we grow as people, Tom or Brenda and I will realise our relationship has run its course, and we end up splitting up. But I never, ever worry that anyone here will break my heart in a way I can't handle."

Newt glanced at his foot, massaging the spot where Teresa had pinched. If he was high, that wouldn't have hurt.

Teresa concluded with this: “It’s the best thing I’ve ever done, Newt. It’s so freeing. I know it’s complicated and weird at first. But I’d hate for you to miss out on being with people who really care about you, just because it’s new and different. I don’t know. I just wanted you to know that.”

Teresa gave him a smile, and Newt forced one back as she leant in and kissed his cheek. He needed his dose soon. He was starting to feel sickly.

Teresa stood up and hopped her way back down to the others, and Newt bit the inside of his lip. Shit, he needed it soon. His stomach was turning, mostly from the anxiety of the question - where was he going to get his drugs?

He slipped off the rocks - he couldn’t stay still anymore - and frowned at the sea. Where was he going to get any dope from? The beach was far from his usual dealers’ corners. Shit.

A type of angry fear filled him up. It had been less than a month since he’d had to endure that horrible nightmare that was withdrawal, and he could still remember every ache and pain and desperate scream.

He couldn’t do that again. Not now, not today. Not with Min and Tommy. Not with them.

He hadn’t brought his phone, and slippy panic slid up his chest. He needed his drugs.

Withdrawal hadn’t even set in properly yet, but nausea and nervousness and fear climbed up his throat and spewed out of his mouth. He turned and leant a hand on the rock, heaving into the sand.

”Newt?”

”Oh my god.”

” _Yobo_ , are you alright?”

Newt’s eyes felt puffy, and his mouth tasted disgusting, but he still nodded. He didn’t know what he was going to say had made him throw up. Maybe he could fake it until he found someone willing to make a house call with a baggie.

”What was that?”

”Come on, sit down. Deep breaths.”

”What’s wrong?”

Newt searched the faces to find Thomas, who had this look like he knew. His mouth was open, his eyes wide and not leaving Newt. The blond turned his head, finding Minho in the slurry, who gave him a concerned but clueless look. Newt grabbed his arm, pulling him closer to treasure a moment with him before Thomas shared what he knew and turned Minho against him.

Though, the moment became moments, because Thomas didn’t say anything. He kept staring at the sickly pale boy feeling more vomit crawl up his throat but kept his thoughts to himself.

Minho held Newt’s hair out of his face when he leant over, sobbing out stomach bile because he barely touched breakfast. He rubbed his back and kissed his head and Newt fell into him when he was done, burying his face in his chest. He felt so secure here. Like nothing could hurt him. That was what he needed, to take his mind off of Thomas staring at him, and the pain that would soon set in.

“We’ll come back another day,” Thomas stood up, full of purpose. The first words he’d said in a while. And his hand reached out for Newt’s. “C’mon, Newt, you need to get home.”

”We’ll stay,” Teresa said, gesturing to Brenda and Ben. “Don’t want to crowd him.”

Newt didn’t want to grab Thomas’s hand, he felt a little bit of fear, but he did. He couldn’t have Thomas mad at him. Even if he didn’t hurt Newt, like Alby, Newt wouldn’t be able to take it.

Thomas pulled him up, and dusted the sand off of him, while Minho stood up and did the same to himself.

Newt felt sicker every second, but luckily he didn’t throw up again anywhere near Minho’s car. There was definitely an apprehensive look before he opened the door for Newt.

He rolled down the window when Newt began to sweat. So much his skin shined, and his t-shirt had stains all down it. Bless Minho, who thought it was the heat that caused it.

Minho unlocked the door, and Thomas walked Newt towards the bedroom. But not the usual bedroom. The spare.

Something about that broke Newt’s heart.

It was in the rules. Newt slept next to them every night.

It took a while for Newt to remember that another rule was that he didn't shoot-up outside of the apartment. Thomas definitely knew.

”Tommy,” Newt said, although it sounded like a whine, as Thomas guided his shoulders down to sit on the edge of the bed. “Tommy, don’t be angry.”

Thomas sat next to him, frowning like his world had just caved in. Newt wanted desperately to worry, or even care. But he needed his dope. He needed it now.

”It was last night, wasn’t it?” Thomas said, croaky and small. “You were high. God, I can’t believe I did that to you.”

Eh?

Newt felt a wave of nausea wash over him and grabbed Thomas’s wrist in a rush. “Tommy, I need a hit. Just one, then I’ll stop. Please, Tommy, I can’t do it like this.”

Thomas turned his head to look at him, so much disappointment in his eyes it actually made Newt recoil and move away. He closed his eyes for a moment, then stood up. “Minho’ll take care of you. I’ll say you got high this morning. If he knows you were high last night, he’ll never stop apologising.”

Just at that moment, Minho brought in a bucket and sat it next to the bed, sending Newt a sad smile. “You look like shit.”

Newt wanted to drop to his knees and beg Minho to get him something. Desperately. But all he could do was squeak, “Minho. Please.”

Minho’s smile dropped, into a serious frown. “What?”

Thomas took Minho’s hand, breaking the news to him in a quiet voice. “Newt got high this morning.”

Minho’s mouth opened, as if he had something to say, then shut again, and his eyes headed towards Newt. Newt, who felt sweat drip down his face, and couldn’t take it anymore. “Min. Minho, please. I have a number in my phone, just call it. I’ll pay. Don’t let this happen to me. Please, Min.”

Minho looked at Thomas, who wrapped his hands around his fiancé’s hips, pulling him into a solemn hug. “Get the couch.”

Newt bit his lip, aches settling into his bones until his fingers were twitching. After squeezing Thomas, Minho looked at the floor and left for the chair. Newt frowned at him. “Min. No. No, please. I can’t make it through this. I just need a hit.”

Thomas shook his head. He pulled a corner of the bed sheet down, to open up the bed, and silently nodded towards it.

Tears rolled down Newt’s cheek, desperation and pain and fear all swirling like a hurricane in every corner of his body. He sat up and grabbed Thomas’s shirt, crying because he couldn’t even sit still anymore. “Tommy, it hurts! Tommy!”

Thomas shook his head, his eyes down like he couldn’t look at Newt’s crying face. “Lay down. Rest. Okay?”

Another lash of sweat ran over Newt’s body, and he could feel his veins starving. He needed drugs. He needed drugs.

”Tommy!” Newt cried, clambering up to grab him by the shoulders. “Tommy, I beg of you-!”

”No.” Thomas finally let his eyes meet Newt’s, his hands holding Newt’s hands back by the wrists. He was stern but sad. “No one is getting you any heroin, so you need to get into bed and stop asking.”

Newt’s throat made a squawk, before a loud howl of a cry, as he clambered towards the other side of the bed. He grabbed his pillow to muffle his cries, staring at Thomas with his face all scrunched up from pain and upset, and Thomas nodded at the floor. As if he was reminding himself this was the right thing to do.

The couch was on wheels and fairly easy to push, so Minho brought it in with ease, and set it next to the bed, the other side to the sick bucket. Thomas took a seat, and Minho sat closest to Newt’s head, staring at him like he was watching someone get tortured.

”Minho...” Newt wailed, spitting into his pillow by accident. Minho sniffed, combing his hand softly through Newt’s hair.

”I’m here, Newt. I’m here.” His eyes were glassy and sympathetic, but there was a hardness to them. Like he thought this was karma for relapsing.

Newt’s sobbing almost muffled a knock on the door, but Thomas caught it and stood up. “That’s probably a neighbour asking about the noise, I’ll tell them now isn’t a good time.”

Minho nodded, and Newt didn’t even try to quieten down. He couldn’t give a shit about a whiny neighbour.

Newt continued to cry, angry and in anguish. Minho held his head in both hands, his thumb rubbing Newt's scalp and his fingers gentle on Newt's head. The blond sobbed, crawling to rest his head on Minho's lap.

"It's okay," Minho murmured, although he sounded like it wasn't. He leant down to kiss Newt’s hair. “You’re going to be okay.”

Newt sniffed, still crying, but quieter now. Minho was soothing him the way a mother would to a crying baby, and although it didn’t dim the pain or cravings, it made Newt feel safer.

Minho breathed against his hair, as a figure burst into the bedroom doorway. Newt wiped his eyes as two more figures followed the first, and saw a still tear-streaked image of four men staring in at him.

Alby in front, staring sternly at Newt. Holding an envelope at his side.

Zart, Fry and Winston stood behind him, glancing at each other with serious frowns. Newt swallowed, as Thomas appeared behind Fry, shaking his head. “Alby, leave him alone. Now’s not the time.”

Alby’s nostrils flared, and Newt sobbed in fear. The older man’s fist scrunched his envelope into a ball, and pelted it towards Newt’s shoulder angrily. “Newt, you’re coming with me. Right now.”

Minho shot up, tossing Newt onto the bed, and stepped towards Alby. “Don’t fucking touch him.”

Newt watched, quivering, as Alby threw a hand out and pointed at Newt. “He’s in pain. He needs a professional, who knows how to take care of him.”

Minho crossed his arms over his chest sternly. “Newt’s never going back to you. As long as I have anything to do with it.”

”Newt’s going through fucking hell, Minho.” Alby stepped in and touched Newt’s leg. “You really think it’s fair to keep him here and make it worse?”

Newt stared up at Alby. Minho didn’t have anything to say back, and Alby had this look. The kind of loving, sympathetic look that would have been one of the reasons Newt fell in love with him way back when.

”Alby, I think it’s best you just go.” Thomas was looking at Newt.

Alby stared Minho down, before Zart pulled him back and shook his head. “Alby, not now. They have your number, they'll call if they need you, I'm sure.”

Alby growled. He turned Thomas’s way and stormed back through the door, not saying a word.

Newt’s friends stayed at the door.

They knew now wasn’t the time for talking, but Fry gave him a smile and stepped forward. “We made you a cake. If you’re not feeling up to it, I’m sure Minho and Thomas will save you a slice.”

Newt wanted to crawl over to them and sob into them and beg them to find a street corner somewhere, but he couldn’t move in that way. Instead his body twitched and moved restlessly.

Zart held out a box, and Winston held out another envelope, like the one Alby had. Only smaller, and with a creamy off-white colour.

”We got you a present, too.” Zart stepped in and set the box on the end of the bed, where Minho moved it to the bedside table so it wouldn’t get damaged in Newt’s uncomfortable writhes. Zart coughed like he didn’t know what to do with himself. He wasn’t really into the hardcore drugs, more party pills than anything. He’d never seen anyone like this before. “Open it when you feel better. I think you’ll like it.”

Minho smiled at them for Newt, who had to grit his teeth to keep from moaning in pain. His bones were aching bad now.

Winston’s turn next. He looked down at his envelope, then let out a breath. “This arrived for you today. It came in the mail. Alby didn’t even want me to bring it. He thought it might be from your parents and cause trauma. But it could be Lizzy, y’know? I mean, it’s for you-.”

Zart elbowed him in the rib, and gave Newt a sad smile. “Keep it, even if you don’t open it.”

Newt just wanted them to leave. If they weren’t here to give him dope, he didn’t want them here.

They stayed standing there for a moment, and Newt gave Fry a look that told him to get out. Fry obliged, pulling on Zart’s sleeve and nudging Winston’s arm. “It’s time to go. Happy birthday, Newt.”

”Happy birthday.” “Happy catch 22 day.” The other two muttered at once, and Minho’s head shot to look at Newt. “It’s your birthday?”

Newt just cried to avoid the question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, I'm back with another chapter ;)  
> Hope ya like it. Lemme know!  
> Thanks for reading,  
> Leave love :D


	18. Whiskey

  “I’m just worried about him, Ben,” Minho sighed, adjusting the wet cloth back against Newt’s forehead. It was useless, he knew; the blond was writhing around like a fish out of water and the cloth wouldn’t stay for long. But his sweat was wetting the sheets, and they needed to last him a while if only just now he was starting this withdrawal thing.

Minho didn’t know much about withdrawal. He just knew Thomas kept Minho away from his home when his dad was going through it.

Seeing it in front of him, seeing it in Newt, was a second-hand torture that made his skin crawl and his chest tighten and his stomach fall. This was Newt. Reduced to a wailing little boy, sobbing and screaming and having tantrums over getting drugs. The pain on his face, the paleness of his skin, the desperation in his eyes. It was all so horrifying. Minho savoured every moment he was in work when he could be away from the creature in their spare bed, that looked like Newt and talked like Newt but couldn’t be Newt because Newt didn’t cry like that. He didn’t screech in the middle of the night, he didn’t give himself a bloody nose trying to fight Minho to the door. He didn’t scream profanities at boys he cared about. And worse, he didn’t gargle out “I love you” when Minho was crying and was almost buckling to the pressure of getting him some drugs.

This Newt did, and Minho couldn’t stand that side of him.

”Look, I’d offer to come over,” Ben said through the phone, as Minho pulled the blanket up Newt’s twitching corpse - because that’s what it was. This thing wasn’t a human being anymore. Just a monstrous, tortured...thing. Something vultures would pick at in a desert. Minho swallowed at that thought. running his hands through Newt’s damp hair to savour it. Ben continued, “But I’m swamped with work, and I’m sure he’ll be home any minute.”

Minho hummed, taking his phone from between his shoulder and cheek, and switching sides. “I know, Benny, but it’s almost ten, Thomas should have been home from work hours ago. With all this stuff with Newt happening, yobo, I’m just worried he might be overwhelmed, y’know?”

Ben tutted from the other line, as Minho sat on the couch seat next to Newt, and held his hand. Thankfully for Minho’s phone call, Newt had been quiet for the first time since yesterday. He lay, shivering, despite being so hot his skin was almost painful to touch. Staring up at Minho with big alert eyes like his body might be on fire. Breathing unevenly, whimpering here and there, crying.

”Are you sure he’s not picking up his phone?” Ben asked. Minho frowned, even though Ben couldn’t see him.

”That question was so dumb you’re at risk of me hanging up on you,” he replied, as Newt let go of Minho’s hand and his arm slithered back under the blanket.

Ben half-laughed, “Min, don’t be a dick. I’m just askin’.”

There was a sound from outside the bedroom, a door, and Minho let out a relaxed breath. “Sorry, Ben, he’s home. Talk to you tomorrow.”

”Love you,” Ben replied, so Minho hung up and stood,  hurrying out to see what had taken Thomas so long getting home.

The evidence was clear in the too-strong smell of whiskey on Thomas’s favourite jacket. Minho frowned at him when Thomas set a nearly empty bottle on the kitchen table, his eyes glassy and dark.

That was the thing with Thomas. Tequila made him horny, rum made him sad, and whiskey made him angry.

He and Minho used to share his dad’s bottles of Jack Daniels on his balcony when they were teens. They’d sit and throw rocks onto the sidewalk below the balcony to blow off steam. It was their way of dealing when things were bad.

”Baby,” Minho whispered as Thomas stumbled forward and wrapped his arms around Minho’s waist. Minho sighed into his shoulder, closing his eyes and focusing on his fiancé. “Baby, I know this is hard for you, but drinking yourself out of reality isn’t the right way to cope with this. You know that, baby, don’t you?”

Thomas ran his hands over the back of Minho’s head, the short spiky hairs of his luscious locks. “Where did he get it from, Min? Who the fuck gave it to him? He didn’t have any money, what did he do to get it?”

Minho kissed Thomas’s shoulder. He hadn’t thought about that. And he didn’t want to start thinking about it now. He’d leave that to Thomas.

He let out a sigh. “We can ask him that when he feels better, Thomas, you just focus on dealing with this, okay?”

Thomas pulled back, shaking his head. “What if it was someone we know, Min? If he got dope before, he can get it again.”

Minho kissed him, then stepped away to get Thomas a drink of water to sober up. “Look at him, Thomas. He’s not going anywhere. There’s no rush. Chill out.”

”Chill out?” Thomas repeated, Minho pulled a glass out of the cupboard. “Min, Newt is in our home, screaming and crying because he’s desperate for drugs. He’s basically a blond Mark Murphy, and god knows we don’t need a fucking clone of my dad. Tell me to chill out one more time and I’ll fucking break something.”

Minho turned the tap on, pausing to turn to Thomas. “You’re drunk, you’re angry, you’re overwhelmed, alright? Newt’s going to get through this, and so are you. And you’re yelling, Newt doesn’t need to hear that.”

Minho turned the tap off, taking a deep breath as he made his way to Thomas to hand his glass to him. He had to keep it together. He had to. Newt was sick and Minho couldn’t expect Thomas to be able to deal with this. Ben and Teresa and Brenda didn’t need to be a part of this, so it was just Minho. He had to keep his head above the water.

Thomas took the water, mumbling an apology before taking a sip. Minho gave him a soft smile. “You worried me, baby, why didn’t you answer my calls?”

Thomas set the glass down. “Min, not now. I just wanna fucking go to sleep.”

Minho nodded, gave him a kiss before pushing the glass toward the sink; he’d do the dishes tomorrow. “Ok. I’ll be right in, I’m just going to check on Newt.”

“Leave him,” Thomas grumbled. “He brought this on himself.”

Minho frowned, stepping away to give his fiancé a jarring look. “He made a mistake. It was bound to happen.”

Thomas snarled at him, speaking as he turned to the bedroom, so Minho followed him. “There’s nothing you can do for him, it’s a waste of time bothering him.”

Minho shut the bedroom door behind them in case Newt could hear, and glowered at Thomas. “I can’t just leave him to deal with this on his own. He’s sick.”

”He deserves it,” Thomas spat, undoing his belt buckle to get ready for bed.

Minho didn’t know what on earth he could say to that. He stared blank at Thomas, and let the sound of that sentence ricochet around his head.

He deserved it? Really? He made one slip-up so he deserved to be screaming in pain and bed-ridden?

Thomas let out a quiet sigh, staring down at the bedside cabinet. “I didn’t mean that, I’m just drunk.”

Minho felt cold, the idea that things like that could even come out of Thomas’s mouth. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at his feet, hearing the words again, then finally understanding why.

Minho looked up as Thomas dropped his pants to reveal neon boxers. “Thomas, you need to get this bullshit comparison scheme out of your head. Newt’s not going to hurt you. He’s not going to relapse then taunt you about it. He’s not going to make you scared of coming home every day, and he’s not going to make you wish you were dead. Newt is a man who deserves love and compassion and sympathy, not suffering. If you ever say anything like that again, you can leave this apartment and move upstairs.”

Thomas exhaled in his direction, nodding. “It’s just hard, Min. I’ve never met an addict who hasn’t ruined me. It’s weird, having these feelings for someone I’m scared of.”

Minho bit his lip and said around it, “You know who knows that feeling better than any of us?”

Thomas shook his head, so Minho whispered Newt’s name, tears welling in his eyes. He pushed them away. He had to be the rational one.

Thomas looked at the floor. “You’re right. You’re right, Min.”

Minho gave him a nod. “I’m going to go check on him. He’s been quiet a while.”

Thomas quietly nodded back to him and pulled off his shirt. Minho turned and made his way to the spare bedroom, putting the bottle of whiskey away as he passed it.

The bedroom door was open, as Minho had insisted on leaving it. It aired out the room, and let Minho keep an eye on Newt. The stench of Newt’s unwashed sheets and damp skin did bleed into the apartment a little, but Minho would change his sheets tomorrow. And maybe give him a sponge bath if he was up to it.

Newt lay on the bed, but every part of his body but his hair was covered by damp, sweat-soaked sheets. Besides his hair, the only thing that gave him away was the sheets, vibrating with Newt’s uncontrollable shivers.

Minho approached the bed, gently feeling the Newt shaped dent in the bed and kissing what he was sure was the forehead. “I don’t know if you heard any of that, but Thomas didn’t mean-,”

”Min, shut up,” a sobbing, shaky boy’s voice replied. Minho bit his lip. Yeah, Newt wasn’t into conversations, unless the first thing Minho said was, “I got you heroin”. Even then he wouldn’t wait around to chat.

Minho leant in, pressing his nose against Newt’s cheek, and whispering, “I’ve fallen for you, Newt. Thomas might crash land, but he’s on his way.” He kissed him again, closing his eyes.

Newt didn’t react, so Minho stood up and closed the door behind him, to muffle sounds Newt might make in the night. Minho had already gone around explaining to the neighbours that it might be noisy for a while, and not to worry.

Thomas was in bed already, sitting up and watching Minho as he made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Minho took his time, knowing Thomas was waiting for him. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, changed into boxers and checked the apartment locks, then finally joined his fiancé in bed.

Thomas wrapped an arm around him, kissing his nape and reluctantly playing big spoon. Thomas liked little spoon because of Minho’s muscly arms, but Minho wasn’t in the mood.

He threaded his fingers between Thomas’s to hold his arms around him and let Thomas’s warm body bleed through him like a human-sized hot water bottle.

”Minho,” Thomas whispered after a while. Minho hummed back at him, and Thomas kissed his hair. “I love you, baby.”

Minho smirked, already slightly sleepy. “I know, Thomas.”

”No, say it back, Min,” Thomas whispered, squeezing him. “Just this once.”

Minho turned to look at him, turning to kiss Thomas on his lips. He tasted of toothpaste and whiskey. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Thomas closed his eyes, kissing Minho again in a quiet moment of thought. When he pulled away, with a sucker noise, he let out a sigh. “Can I tell you something I’ve never told you before?”

Minho nodded, twisting his body around to face him properly, before getting comfortable on the pillow next to him. Thomas closed his eyes. “You know the night you were in Korea, and we facetimed and I...I wasn’t really in a good place?”

Minho hummed, caressing Thomas’s hip with his palm.

Thomas kept his eyes closed. “When you burst into the bathroom after hours and hours of radio silence from you, that’s the moment everything changed for me, Minho. You’d paid for an entire flight back, you’d taken the trip even though it was Christmastime, and all just to hold me and make sure that I was alright. For the first time in my life, I knew what it was like to be sure, one hundred percent certain that I was loved by someone. Before then, I’d been beaten, neglected, abandoned, abused and treated like scum. But you kissed my head, whispered my name, and all of it went away because there was you to help me through it.”

Minho gave him a smile, pressing his forehead against Thomas’s chin, and closing his own eyes. “I loved you from the moment we first kissed, and I’ve loved you ever since.”

Thomas chuckled slightly. “You used way too much tongue.”

Minho scoffed, feathering Thomas’s side with his fingertips. “Your breath was disgusting. Couldn’t you have chewed a mint?”

Thomas laughed quietly. It was quiet for a moment, and Minho nuzzled into Thomas’s body warmth.

Then he said, “Can I tell you something, _yobo_?”

Thomas nodded. Minho took a deep breath, moving his head to look up at him. “I’m falling in love with Newt. Real, head spinning love, baby. And I’m worried Newt won’t want to be with me because he’s uncomfortable having two boyfriends. And if you don’t want me to be with him, you come first, you know that. But I really love him.”

Thomas closed his eyes. "I think I know how you feel, Minho. But now's not the time."

Minho frowned at the sternness in his voice. But Thomas had closed his eyes and now so had Minho, trying not to think about the whimpers he could hear from the next room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!  
> sorry it's been so long! i don't have any good excuses, i just really haven't been able to mae time to write these past few weeks. hopefully you'll get the next chapter in the next few days, so bear with!  
> i really loved writing this chapter in a weird way? i wanted to make it a subversion of expectation, because a lot of the time drunk and angry leads to...well, you know what. so i kind of wanted to contrast how Newt felt about Alby (fearful, nervous of his short fuse) with how Minho felt about Thomas, so he was not at all scared of Thomas’s drunken temper and was quite capable of reeling him in a bit. i really wanted to give an example of a moment that’s often used as a trope to introduce abuse flipped upside down, as proof of a healthy, trusting relationship to really drive home how terrible Newt’s situation had been, and how terrific Minho’s was.  
> well, i hope you liked it.  
> thanks for reading!  
> leave love :)


	19. Find Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning:  
> -Newt in distress from withdrawal  
> -Smut

“Is this okay?” Minho whispered, kissing one of the veins in Thomas’s neck. Thomas ran his fingertips through Minho’s short spiky hair, letting out a soft hum over the loud pop music blasting from the speaker across the room.

It had been four days, and yesterday had been the worst. They had to drown out the screaming with Minho's dance playlists. God, it hurt to hear.

The first day had been the hardest, though.

They’d sat with Newt and Minho sang old Korean lullabies to him while Thomas reminded Newt it would all be over soon.

Day two was the day Newt kicked Teresa in the shin - an accident during one of his writhing fits, but it made him cry and he told the boys to leave him alone.

It was no use arguing so Thomas kissed his head, and they brought trays of food in every three hours. Minho would eat whatever Newt didn’t, which was almost everything.

Yesterday, Newt had eaten one bite of toast. It was small, but it was progress. Even though that sounded like he was getting better, his symptoms peaked that same day. Thomas told Minho not to go in there unless he really needed to; he knew what it was like to watch someone he loved suffer like that, and if Thomas could make sure Minho would never ever see Newt in so much pain, he would.

Today had been much the same as yesterday, in terms of Minho and Thomas. They blasted music and watched TV and did anything they could to keep from thinking about what was going on in their spare room. And how quickly it had taken the both of them to start missing Newt sleeping between them every night.

Today, though, Ben came over. Teresa and Brenda had come around to check on Newt every morning, but Ben had been avoiding the apartment completely. Even when he got here, he couldn’t even look at the bedroom door. Newt was a little quieter than yesterday, but his whimpers still interrupted dinner conversation.

Thomas could swear he could still hear Newt over... fuck, Beyoncé? Minho would kill him for not knowing that one. So would Ben, in all honesty.

Thomas tossed his eyes down, to Ben, who’d unzipped his jeans and was smirking all smug-like. Thomas giggled at him. “Hey, hey. Calm down, Minho likes it slow.”

Ben scoffed, chuckling. “Slow?! Oh my god, Minho honey, no wonder you put out on the first date.”

Minho took a long swig of his “cola” which Ben had brought over from his “cola” cabinet. Yeah, it was risky having alcohol in the apartment with Newt here but Ben promised if there was any left once they had all had enough he would chug it all. Luckily for Ben, because it was neat vodka with half a capful of coca cola in there, they all shared it out equally. Thomas had been binge drinking all week, just to get through, much to Minho's dismay. It was nice to have company finally.

There was only enough to get them tipsy, but it had still led to the bedroom. It always did with Minho. Though, usually, they were a lot drunker before they played sexy truth or dare.

Minho was probably just depraved.

Speaking of, the Asian beauty almost ripped his shirt pulling it over his head and gave Thomas a dark smile. “Babe, you’re way better slow. You, I gotta savour you.”

Thomas smirked at Ben. “You hear that, Ben? He’s gotta savour me.”

Ben rolled his eyes, grinning, while Minho crawled over to him and kissed his chest. He murmured something slurry, something Thomas didn’t catch, but made Ben go “ha!” and kiss Minho like his way had won out.

Thomas giggled, sitting up to grab Minho’s arm selfishly to get him back to kissing Thomas’s neck.

Minho didn’t, but he did turn to Thomas and kiss him right on the lips. Grinning, and teasing Thomas’s chest with his fingertips, he said, “You’ve had a stressful week, Mr Murphy.”

Thomas giggled, whispering, “What are you going to do about it, Mr Park?”

Minho laughed, kissing him again, as a pair of hands - Ben’s - worked at his jeans.

Thomas whimpered with delight, running his fingers through Ben’s hair - which was longer than Minho’s so it was more fun to grip. Newt’s was the most fun though, reaching his shoulders and looking all sexy bunched in Thomas’s hand.

Maybe Thomas let his mind wander too far because he ended up moaning Newt’s name instead of one of the two gentlemen who were really giving him the pleasure he was imagining with the screaming boy in the room next door.

Minho heard this moan and laughed into Thomas’s neck. “Good to know having a threesome with me and Ben’s your wildest fantasy, Thomas.”

Thomas was blushing, but that could be from Ben’s mouth on him. He shivered a breath in, squeezing Minho’s hand.

“Fucking hell. Sorry. My brain just stopped working for a second there.”

Minho smirked, meeting Thomas’s hand in Ben’s hair. “Benny knows exactly how to do that to you, doesn’t he?”

Ben sent Minho a wink. Thomas squeezed his hand harder. He leant in to kiss him, when he heard the bedroom door open.

Ben and Minho jumped away from Thomas, turning and following Thomas’s gaze to Newt, crying, on the floor in the doorway.

Shit. He didn’t hear Thomas moaning for him, did he? Thomas might drop dead.

He clambered over Minho and stood up, picking up his boxers as he walked over. He put them on before kneeling next to Newt, deciding this wasn’t a dick-out scenario.

”Baby,” Thomas whispered, moving his dirty hair out of his face.

Newt sobbed still, grabbing Thomas’s hand to hold onto. “Tommy, I need to see my sister. I need to apologise to her. Please. I need to see her. You don’t understand.”

Thomas took his gaze over to Minho and Ben, who were both hurrying to get their clothes on. He couldn’t help feeling a slither of relief hidden behind his concern.

”Tommy,” Newt repeated. “I did something bad and it’s all my fault and I need to say sorry. Please.”

Thomas kissed his hair, shaking his head. “Newt, you’re delirious. You need to get back to bed.”

Newt shuffled until he could bury his face in Thomas’s chest, sobbing like he was being tortured. “It’s all my fault. I need to apologise to Lizzy. You have to help me find her.”

Thomas carefully slipped his arm under Newt’s shaking legs, and held him around the mid-section, to pick him up like a blushing bride. Newt sobbed into his neck, but Thomas stood up, sending a glance Minho’s way before taking Newt out of the room and towards the spare.

They’d only just gotten out the bedroom door when a noise emerged. ”Make it stop,” Newt whimpered, and Thomas stopped to look at him. His shaking hands and arms, his poor, pale face, his shirt, covered in sweat and vomit and tears.

Thomas closed his eyes. A minute ago, he was having drunken fun with his fiancé and one of his best friends, something he never thought he’d be able to do because of his fucked up family. But now he was seventeen again, dragging his father across the apartment because he was getting the couch all sweaty, and the screaming was upsetting Minho. Or maybe he was fifteen, kicking his passed out dad until the man bruised because he promised, he promised he’d go to the NA meetings Thomas found for him but he’d really just been getting high. And he was thirteen again too, begging his weeping mother to take him with her, and not leave him with a monster.

Now Newt’s face said pain, but pain in a sympathetic way. He reached out a hand, caressing Thomas’s face, still crying but softer. “Tommy, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Well, there was something his father never did right there.

Minho was right. Newt was different. And if Thomas wanted to commit to taking care of him, he had to realise that.

He marched Newt to the bedroom, which stank like sweat and vomit and whatever else. Thomas hadn’t been in there for days, the smell wafted at him, but he gave Newt a small smile and kissed his face. The bed sheets had come off, expected with Newt’s movements, and there were several things thrown across the room.

Yesterday had been the worst, and you could tell the worst had come. There was a part of Thomas that felt awful letting poor Newt go through that alone. But Thomas being there wouldn’t have helped, and seeing him like that would not be good for him.

Thomas set Newt down on the bed and got to work changing the sheets, and Newt’s clothes. He’d given the blond a sponge bath on day two, but he could really do with another one. Still, now really wasn’t the time, since Newt was really upset about something to do with his sister.

He tried to avoid kissing Newt’s mouth, knowing what had come out of it, but he lay next to the blond and kissed his forehead.

”It’s okay,” he said, pulling a fresh clean blanket up Newt’s torso. “I forgive you, Newt.”

Newt nodded, reaching around Thomas’s waist under the covers. He pulled himself forward so Thomas got comfortable on his back and let Newt rest his head on his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Newt whispered, restlessly trying to get comfortable. “You were busy. I’m sorry.”

Thomas smiled, shaking his head. “No, no, Newt, it’s okay, baby. We were just drunk.”

Minho came through the door, buttoning his shirt up, Ben following behind him and giving Newt a nervous smile. “Hey.”

Thomas gave him a nod, as Newt turned onto his front, pulling himself up to kneel, his face squashed against Thomas’s bare chest. He was too restless to lie next to, really, but Thomas patted the space next to him for the boys to sit, and let Newt flatten out again then curl into a ball with his head and knees on Thomas’s chest.

Minho knelt on the bed, running a hand over Thomas’s hair. “Newt, you didn’t hear Thomas, did you?”

Thomas gave Minho a look like “don’t say that!” but it was too late, because Newt had shaken his head, buried the upper part of his face in Thomas’s neck and asked, “Hear Thomas say what?”

Ben smirked, shaking his head as he sat on Minho's other side. “Nothing. Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Minho lay his head next to Thomas’s on the pillow, reaching over him with a tired grip. Thomas gave him a kiss on the lips, which was supposed to be a goodnight kiss, but Minho shuffled closer and Thomas felt him poking into his leg. He frowned, turning his head to Minho as Newt let out a frustrated groan.

”Min, down boy,” he said, and Minho smirked, sending a wink to Ben. Ben giggled, clambering over Minho and sitting on his waist, kissing him. Thomas grimaced, slapping him playfully over the head. “You’re disgusting.”

Ben giggled, still tipsy. “I’m just messin’ with ya, Tom, calm down, dude.”

Minho kissed Thomas again, and Thomas gave him a vague smile. “You two can go sleep in our room if you want, guys. I can take care of Newt.”

Thomas glanced at the blond, who’d pulled the covers fully over him and was moving nothing but his legs and feet, which twitched mercilessly.

Ben shook his head, massaging Minho's bare chest. “No. Newt needs you, and you need Minho. And Minho needs me.”

Thomas gave him a smile, blowing Minho an air kiss.

Minho reached out to take his hand, giving him a look. The look. The one that meant 'we're going to get through this'. This was one of those treasured moments when Thomas could propose to Minho all over again. There were few people who knew exactly what meant what to Thomas, Minho and the girls making up the highest percentage, with Ben trailing close behind.

Ben and Thomas were great friends, but Ben would never understand anything Thomas had ever been through. He was raised behind a white-picket fence. They didn’t really talk about that stuff to each other.

Minho pulled away, pressing his finger to Thomas’s lips. Thomas furrowed his eyebrows, listening for whatever Minho heard.

There was a moment of complete silence, that made Thomas squint his eyes at Minho, but then he heard it; this tiny squeak from the Newt shaped dent in the blanket.

Ben frowned, clambering off of Minho and sitting himself down, as if suddenly things were serious.

”Newt, c’mere,” Minho whispered, pulling the covers down him to find his face. Newt rolled over, and Thomas pulled him over to his chest, squeezing him tight. Minho set his head on the other side of Thomas’s chest, wiping Newt’s damp face with the blanket. Ben wrapped an arm around Minho's waist, big spoon to Minho's smaller one.

”It’ll be over soon,” Minho told Newt, with a forced smile. Thomas squeezed him with his arm, kissing his head, then Newt’s.

Newt closed his eyes, but if he slept, it would be the first time in days.

Minho leant over and kissed him on the nose. “We’re going to wait right here until you feel better, okay?”

Newt, tears rolling out of his eyes and onto Thomas’s chest, pushed his face in closer to Minho’s pressing his forehead against Minho’s, sniffing.

Minho gave him a smile, holding his cheek, while Thomas and Ben shared adoring glances.

Newt held Minho’s wrist, scrunched his eyes shut as if he was aching all over.

”L-Lizzy...” Newt whispered, sobbing quietly. Thomas soothed his hair softly, unwittingly mirroring himself on Ben’s side. But Ben looked like he needed it.

Newt was a torture victim lying right next to him, and Ben had never so much as stubbed his toe.

”Lizzy’s your sister?” Ben asked, looking slightly nervous to have even spoken in Newt’s direction.

Newt kept his eyes closed, sobbing again, his hand on Minho’s squeezing like he was desperate to relieve some of whatever he was feeling. Minho didn’t complain. Just grunted at the constrictor around his wrist, and let it happen.

”I needed it,” Newt whispered, burying his face in Thomas’s chest. “I needed it so I took it and I regret it every day and she needs to know. I’m sorry. Lizzy...”

Newt began to howl, so Thomas held his head and shushed him. “Shhh, Newt. It’s okay, baby. Whatever you did, I’m sure she knows you didn’t mean it.”

”What did you do?” Ben asked, earning a slap over the head from Thomas. That wasn’t their business. And Newt was in no state to talk about it.

Newt closed his eyes, biting his bottom lip to try to calm himself down some. He twitched around for a moment, letting go of Minho to wipe his face.

It took him a moment, but finally he said, teary and between upset wails, “I stole money from her college fund. All the money. To buy drugs. My parents kicked me out. I never got to apologise.”

Thomas shared a glance with Minho, then another with Ben.

”It was her dream to make it to Oxford. I’m a fucking monster. Make it stop, make it stop!”

Minho grabbed Newt by the shoulders, pulling him into a hug which Thomas helped restrain him into because Newt’s spasming body dug bony elbows into his skin.

”Calm down,” Minho whispered. “Calm down. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

"Let me see her!" Newt screeched so loud it hurt Thomas's ears. "I'll be good! Let me find her!"

Minho looked up at Thomas, and Thomas couldn't even guess what that look in his eyes meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told ya it'd be a few days. Next one'll be up just as soon I'm sure.  
> I hope you liked this chapter. Thanks for reading!  
> Leave love :)  
> Edit: New chapter will be up next week at the latest. Got a lot goin' on. Thanks for the patience!


	20. What Would You Say?

It had been two weeks since Newt's last dose. Three days since the pain had faded away. Four since he'd started eating again. Two since sleeping. One since opening his birthday presents - a sketchbook from Fry, Zart and Winston, a letter from Alby telling him that he still loved him, that Newt threw under the bed because now was not the time to hear all that bullshit.

It had been half an hour since everyone had arrived for beer and pizza night. Last week, they had it upstairs, and Thomas would check on him every so often. Newt could barely remember it. It was a blur, really. A really painful, scary blur.

If he could thank his brain, he would, for blocking out most of that horror show. Still, the aches and pains had subsided, coming in tiny waves every few hours, but fading definitely. He’d gotten through it, almost. He was still craving drugs like oxygen, but the pain was no longer a motivator in going out to get some.

This week, Min asked if it was okay if they had beer and pizza night in their apartment on account of tradition, and since Newt was feeling a little better. He promised they’d either keep their voices down or put music on to hush the sounds a little. Newt shrugged. As long as he could stay in the spare bedroom and everyone would stay out of his way, he didn't care what they got up to.

He liked the music more than he liked the chatter outside the room, so he sat on the floor next to the speaker Minho brought in from the other bedroom and listened to the beats on some Youtube playlist Minho had pulled up called 'Minho's jams'. He didn't know a lot of the songs, but the choruses in most of the songs were repetitive, so he'd hum them to Mow, who'd curled on his lap after Minho had caught her pawing at the bedroom door and let her in.

Newt had fallen in love with Mow, and it seemed she loved him too. She sat on his legs and purred up at him, with big shiny eyes and an innocent little patchy grey face.

He'd never had a cat before. Nana had a dog but they didn't get to see him much after they moved from London. Newt had wanted to get a dog for years, but he didn't think he'd trade Mow for any pup out there. And technically, she wasn't even his.

Or maybe she was. Maybe she was Thomas and Minho's too, not just the girls. If she half belonged to this apartment, maybe Newt had a share of custody too, now that he was living here. Or maybe she was just the girls'.

He'd had half a slice of that cake Fry made him when he started to run out of things to keep him occupied. He wasn't interested in sleeping, and usually, he had Minho or Thomas by his side to fill the empty staring of walls. But they were busy.

The cake was nice. The envelope sitting on top of its box was not. From mum. Newt didn't want to open it so he set the envelope beside him, but now it was sat there, staring at him.

Fuck.

Maybe it was an apology. Or an invitation to come and apologise. It had to be something important. Something he should probably read. Newt's mother wasn't the type to waste perfectly good stamps on things that didn't matter.

He hadn't been expecting anything from his family for his birthday, and yet, it didn't surprise him. The last he ever heard from his mother was an email to Alby, three weeks after Newt had given him permission to contact his family about what Dr Gallagher said about his life expectancy. His mother just wrote a cold “thank you for contacting me” and nothing else.

But she was his mother. He was her son. She must have cared.

He frowned at his hand as his fingers snuck across the floor to pick up the letter. Mow squeaked in protest as he turned to reach it, and Newt scratched her head.

The envelope was thicker than he expected. He pulled it open, and slid the contents of it out from inside.

It was a card. A birthday card, with a photo of a dog wearing a party hat on the front.

Newt turned it open.

**To Newt,**

**Happy birthday**

**From Ava and Lizzy**

Newt stared at the handwriting. Blue ink.

She couldn’t even sign it ‘mum’. It would kill her, Newt supposed, to remind herself that she gave birth to such a terrible creation.

He rolled his eyes, tossed the card over his shoulder. What was he expecting? Some I love you, please come home letter?

He was an idiot.

He shoved a cigarette between his lips and lit it, sliding the card across the floor in the general direction of the rubbish bin.

He almost sent the envelope sliding after it, but he felt something sitting inside it.

Anxious, he peppered the piece of photo paper out of it’s casing and turned it over to look at it.

“Oh my god.”

He remembered that day. He remembered taking that photo. They were fifteen, visiting nana for the weekend. George had convinced him to go for a walk in the woods near the house so the two of them were covered in dirt and reeked of cigarettes. Dad made nana take the photo so she wouldn't get a whiff, and Lizzy stood between Newt and his mother so his mum wouldn't find out. Mum said 'pretty faces, this is going in the calendar', so Newt kissed George's cheek just before the flash went off to spite his mother's insistence that he not tell her side of the family he was gay.

Mum rolled her eyes and they took about three other photos, but Newt secretly hoped they'd use that one. The way George's eyes lit up when he felt his lips on him. The memories of his smell, the innocent little giggle that made Newt smile as he pulled away. The way Lizzy pretended to be disgusted, but Newt could see her little grin. His dad's face in this photo, a proud, hidden smirk, and his mother's angrily furrowed eyebrows.

A happy grief washed a wave over Newt, as he stared at four people that had been lost to him for so long. Five if he counted the innocent, sober little Newt that didn't have a clue what would happen to him just next year.

Sneaking this photo into the card would be Lizzy’s doing. Newt knew that without turning it over and reading the blue handwriting in the back, but he read it anyway.

“Oh my god,” he whispered again. He knew that handwriting and it wasn’t Lizzy’s. Years old and beginning to fade, Newt pressed his fingertips against the words like he was reading braille. He let his eyes get wet and pulled the photo closer to read it.

**"If two people love each other there can be no happy end to it." - Ernest Hemingway**

**But I didn't love you for the end. I loved you for the days you'd paint and I'd smoke and we'd be so in love it would hurt.**

**I'll be in love with you until this sickness sends me underground to feed the worms I used to taunt you with. You don't have to love me back. Just love. Promise me.**

**I love you. I love you.** **And it's worth every aching second of heartbreak.**

**Yours forever,**

**George**

Newt wiped his face with the back of his hand, his heartbeat racing as he turned the photo over in his hand. 

Some days being in love was no good. Like the day he tried to quit dope for the first time and George fed a needle into him like it was illegal to be sober for a single second. And the months and months that came after George's death. And the day Alby strangled him.

But this day, this day at nana's, was the perfect day to be in love.

A day before any of it hurt.

He gently pushed Mow off of his lap and got himself up. The room was weird from this angle - he hadn’t stood up in ages.

The bed was cold, now that it had been empty for a while. But Newt pulled the covers over himself to his chin and set the photo down next to his head.

He turned over the photo and read his message again.

When George died, he thought he’d never be happy again.

In some ways, he was right. He hadn’t felt so safe with someone. He hadn’t trusted anyone so whole-heartedly. He hadn’t had anyone change his life so easily since then.

Except maybe now.

Maybe today was a good day to be in love, too. Maybe today was the best day.

Maybe Minho and Thomas were the best people to fall in love with today.

The click of the door sounded, a few hours later, when Newt was starting to doze off.

Thomas gave him a smile when he looked up to see who was at the door. “Everybody’s gone. It’s safe for you to come out now.”

Newt forced a smile. He still wasn’t well enough to really smile. “I think I might just go to sleep soon.”

Thomas smiled back at him, warm and lovely. “Brenda brought a movie over, Min and I were going to settle on the couch with a blanket and the pizza leftovers. You’re invited.”

”That’s okay, thanks,” Newt replied. “That’s a boyfriend/boyfriend thing, I’ll leave you to it.”

”Please don’t,” a voice behind the door said. Minho’s. His face stuck through the crack in the door and he smirked. “I’ve spent two damn weeks stuck with Thomas, it’s time we have you back.”

Newt glanced at his photo, smiling properly at the feeling that he was wanted - that he’d been missed.

”Who’s that?” Thomas asked, from Newt’s bedside, as the blond picked up the slip of glossy paper.

Newt shook his head, pulling the photo closer to him. He was going to answer, even though he didn't really want to talk about it right now, but his mouth made different words. "Tommy? Do you know how lucky you are to have found Minho?"

Thomas stopped as if the question had just appeared in Newt's hand from thin air. He looked towards the door, frowning at Minho slightly. "Of course I do. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I've..." Newt looked up at Minho, pushing himself into a sitting position so he could eventually pull himself out of bed to join the boys for their movie. But first... "I've never been very lucky. Whenever I'm in love, it's a trainwreck. I feel like some people overlook how lucky they are, and I don't want either of you to do that because you two are the luckiest people I've ever met."

He made a move to stand up, but Minho shut the door and leant against it with a small smile. "You've never met anyone that makes you feel lucky? Not even the guy in that photo you're clinging to?"

Newt looked down at the photo, re-read the writing. He'd felt lucky. For a moment. George had felt like one in a million. Like the one. Like the man he would grow old with and fall in love with every day and feel so, so lucky to be with.

But he wasn't.

And that wasn't just because he got sick, or because Newt met Alby, or because of the drugs. It was because of the night Newt forgave him for getting him hooked on heroin. When love became synonymous with a trap. With forgiveness no matter what. With letting someone do whatever they wanted to you because they said they loved you, and you loved them back. The night love started to change it's definition, into something monstrous, that he could never change back.

He looked up at Minho, as Minho sat next to him, across Thomas's legs.

”Georgie wasn’t luck. George was a curse.”

Minho gave him a small smile. “But a good one, judging by that look in your eyes.”

Newt wiped his face just in case his tears were still visible. “I never know the difference.”

Thomas took Newt’s hand, and Newt looked at him, careful to keep the photo close to him.

”I’d call finding you lucky, you know,” he said.

Newt smirked, dropping his gaze to his knees. “I’d call you a miracle.”

He heard a quiet laugh, and pushed his hair out of his face. “I forgot that I never thanked you. For letting me come live here, for taking care of me, for not getting angry when I relapsed. I owe you so much and I have no idea how I’m ever going to repay you.”

”You don’t owe us anything,” Minho smiled, reaching out for his hand. “That’s what you do for people you care about.”

Newt dropped his gaze, re-reading George’s message one more time.

He took a deep breath.

”What would you say if I... If I decided I wanted to be part of this thing... I want to be with you.”

He kept his eyes down, and closed them when there was quiet in the room.

Minho spoke first. “I’d love that.”

There was a pause, while Newt stared at the back of his eyelids.

”Me too,” Thomas added.

Newt bit his lip, looking up at them anxiously. He felt like he was jumping out of an aeroplane. Like this was a risk. Like there was no surviving if this went wrong.

”Can we just take it slow?” He said, finally looking up to see Minho grinning, holding a half-smiling Thomas’s hand. “I mean, I’d say that even if there was just one of you. It might take some time for me to get used to this kind of stuff.”

Thomas nodded, while Minho’s smile widened.

”Just wait for the sex,” Minho joked, as Thomas slapped his head.

”Minho, we were having a moment!” He scolded him.

Newt glanced between the two of them. The only thing he was sure about was how unsure he really was.

But if he let these two slip out of his hands, he’d regret not giving it a chance until he joined George down under.

He had to.

"Good," he said, taking a deep breath.

Two kinda maybe boyfriends.

Okay.

Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo i wrote half of this with a high fever and pukin out my guts, so it's definitely not my favourite chapter I've ever written. however i desperately wanted to get something out there in case the flu or whatever it is makes me go radio silent again. i'll do my best to update ASAP, but please be patient! thank u!  
> thanks for reading too! it means a lot!  
> leave love x


	21. Sacrifices, Compromises and Hard Drugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> \- Non/Con (not graphic, but still clear)

Newt woke up on the couch at one pm the next day. His body was covered by a woollen blanket, his head laying on a comfy memory foam cushion, but he still felt like something was missing.

His first thought was that it was just the dull drug cravings that had been poisoning his every move for the past two weeks. But there was something else too.

He raised his head, eyebrows furrowing at how empty the room was. Weren’t Tommy and Minho here when he fell asleep?

It was dead silent in the living room. As if the apartment was empty. Or hollow, more so.

Newt rubbed his eyes to help them adjust and pushed himself to sit up. The TV was still on, some infomercial about some work-out thing. It was muted, so there was no adding to the sound.

They hadn’t just left him alone here without a note, had they?

He stood up, pushing his hair behind his face. “Minho?”

No response.

”Tommy? You here?”

Just more silence.

He snuck over to the bedroom, pulled the door open to check the room.

Empty.

Newt frowned. He was about to turn away when the bathroom door swung open - the ensuite one - and the boys tripped out, towels around their waists and damp hair. They didn't notice Newt at first, just went on giggling to each other, close enough to kiss each other without actually doing it. Thomas had his arms around Minho's waist, smiling at him like he meant everything to him, while Minho gave him a smirk like he was hotter than hell.

Newt stepped back. He couldn't watch this. This felt like it was an intimate moment, and not just because they were half naked. They were sharing smiles, little touches, appreciating each other with silent words Newt wouldn't understand, and shouldn't be trying to figure out. This was for them, not him.

He moved to step away, but he'd been noticed.

"Hey, Newt," Thomas grinned, as Minho twisted himself around and gave him a wide smile.

"Sorry we didn’t wake you up earlier," he said, pulling out of Thomas's hands to redo his towel around his waist. “Figured it would be good for you to get a rest.”

Newt fidgeted with his hands, pulling his sleeves down to his knuckles. “Thanks. Sorry for staring at you just then.”

Thomas gave him a smile. “Chill out, Newt, you’re allowed to stare at people you’re dating.”

Newt sent his gaze to his feet. A lightning bolt went through him, half excited and half nervous. “I almost forgot about that.”

”You good?” Newt looked up at Minho, who approached him with a serious but soft frown on his face. “Look, you just say, yobo, if anything starts moving too fast, or makes you uncomfortable. Promise, we won’t judge you for it.”

His hands held Newt’s face, gently caressing his blushing cheeks. Newt bit his lip, looking down again. “I’m fine, really. There are just some things that are gonna take a while for me to learn to join in with.”

Minho nodded. “Of course, baby.” He leant in for a kiss, but Newt turned his head, eyes shooting straight to Thomas.

”Yeah, put some clothes on and we can work on a first kiss." He stepped away, and Minho gave him a smirk. He pulled back still and made his way to the closet, while Thomas grabbed a pair of underwear from the floor and pulled it on under the towel hanging from his hips.

"It wouldn't really be the first kiss though, would it?" Minho said, distracted by picking out a combination of dark clothing. Newt crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to look at Thomas as he dropped the towel, and even though he was wearing underwear, Newt felt like he was very naked.

"That's not the point," Newt replied. Jesus, Thomas couldn't help but be seductive, could he? Drying himself off like he knew Newt was watching. Or, trying not to watch. "Our real first kiss was when we were all wasted out of our minds and we don't remember it. I think we get to pick and choose what we want to call our first."

Thomas looked up at him, with this secretive look in his eyes. Like it was something only Newt and Tommy knew. It was hot - until Newt realised he was looking at him like that because there was actually something they were keeping from Minho. "Does that logic apply to our first time having sex? I'm guessing you don't really want to count those other times." He looked at Minho hurriedly. "You know because it didn't mean as much then."

Newt tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear. "Yeah. Where did you put my cigarettes?"

Minho tossed him a half-empty box three seconds later as if he already had it in his hands. Newt pulled one from the box and Thomas handed him a lighter.

He threw the box on the bed and shoved his cigarette between his lips, lighting it with his eyes on Minho, who was watching him with a thoughtful look as he pulled his shirt down his torso.

Newt dropped his lighter on the bed and inhaled, before releasing the cig and frowning at Minho. "I just got out of heroin withdrawal, you want me to quit cigarettes now?"

Minho glanced at Thomas, before pushing his wet hair back. "You coming to work with me tonight? I can get you another night off if you need one, Gally won't mind."

Gally. Newt flicked his gaze over to Thomas. Half of him, desperately hoping Tommy would have figured out that it was somewhere in work that Newt got high. But the other half, the half with none of the self-control, was blossoming with relief. Finally, he could find someone with some dope to sell.

Before the thought could whisk him away, Thomas spoke. "Wait, Newt, can I ask you something?"

Newt mouthed his cigarette again, nodding quietly. Thomas shuffled for a moment, before shoving his hands in his pockets as if he was uncomfortable asking the question. "It wasn't any of Minho's employees that gave you your drugs that night, was it? It's unlikely but I have to ask."

Minho frowned at his fiance as if he himself had been accused, but he didn't say anything. Maybe he knew his colleagues well enough to know it was a valid question.

Newt sucked in a breath from his cigarette, and let it out, all before saying, “I don’t know. I didn’t know him, he was a total stranger.”

Technically, that was true.

Thomas and Minho shared a glance, but that seemed to satisfy them. Newt took another drag from his cigarette before he pulled it from his mouth and held it between two fingers at his side. “I want to come to work with you. I’ll take a shower and get ready, yeah?”

Thomas gave him a smile. “Oh, great. I’m glad you’re feeling well enough. I’ll be there too, all night, so you’ll have a ride if you need to leave whenever.”

Newt smiled back at him. “Thanks, Tommy.”

”Time for that first kiss yet?” Minho mocked him, making kissy faces and noises like a child. Newt rolled his eyes, half-smiling still as he made his way to the bathroom.

***

Newt tied his apron behind his back, making a nice neat bow the way he used to do before painting, and pushed his hair behind his ears. He was three years overdue a haircut. Alby used to do it over the bathroom sink with scissors he never sharpened, but Newt stopped letting him after the time Alby accidentally cut out a chunk of his hair and had to give him bangs to accommodate for it. He’d looked like Lizzy that time she tried to cut her own hair then cried when it didn’t look how she wanted it to. Newt didn’t cry, he just banned Alby from going anywhere near his hair with any sharp utensils. It was only fair.

It had passed the opening time, but Newt had been looking for Gally for about half an hour. Plus Teresa had grabbed him and spent twenty minutes slapping make-up on his face.

Minho had put him behind the bar for the night so he could chill out a little more, so he sat next to Trina and handled all the drinks that didn't have to be mixed. Ben didn't come this time, so Thomas sat at the bar most of the night, flirting with everyone who sat next to him.

Newt stopped his wiping down of the bar counter, sending Thomas a look that reminded him of the one his mother used to give him when he did something he shouldn't - which was a lot of the time. "Tommy."

Thomas looked up, holding a finger up to signal to the pretty redhead next to him 'one minute'. "You okay, Newt?"

"No, not really," Newt replied, glancing at the girl. "How about we keep it just me, you and Minho for the time being, huh? At least, in front of the newbie?"

Thomas looked at his friend, then back at Newt, then forced a smile. "Sorry. You're right, it's not all that normal to watch your boyfriend flirt with other people."

"Boyfriend?" Newt and the stranger both exclaimed in unison.

The girl scoffed, looking at Thomas in disgust as she spun off the bar stool and strutted away. Newt had to stay, staring at Thomas with a slightly open mouth. "I'm not your boyfriend."

Thomas raised an eyebrow, half smirking. "So what are you then?"

"I don't know," Newt replied, getting back to his bar cleaning. "But boyfriend is way too serious a name for where we are right now. Maybe after our first kiss."

"Okay," Thomas smirked as if he had something to add. "And when will that be happening?"

"I don't know, you're the one who's had about a hundred first kisses, Tommy. You tell me," Newt answered, tossing his washcloth across the bar to top Thomas's drink up. Lemonade, like the last three times. Thomas grinned at him.

"Oh, alright, sure," he laughed. "I'll write it in my schedule for as soon as possible. Frankly, Newt, I think we're overdue."

Newt tried to drop his smile, shaking his head wildly. "If we rush it, it won't be special."

Thomas laughed again, taking his drink into his palm and finding the straw with his tongue. He took a sip, then pulled off and gave Newt a wild smile. "That just beat Ben's 'wait, heroin's addictive?' from three years ago as the dumbest thing I've ever heard anyone say."

Newt half-laughed, but his mind was back on the drug - the only reason he'd come here in the first place. He snuck a glance around the club, leaning his palms on the countertop eagerly.

Thomas rolled up his sleeves. “Does it make you uncomfortable that I flirt with other people? You can just say if you want us to be exclusive, I’d be fine with it. Minho’s the one who needs convincing.”

The room was dark, besides the stage lights. He could see figures lit in purple and yellow, but it was hard to figure faces. Especially one he'd only seen once properly. He saw a man with a cigarette and the same hairstyle as Gally, but there was no telling if that really was that him. Newt dropped his gaze to Thomas. “I don’t know. I don’t want to screw with the way your relationship is when I don’t even get it myself yet.”

Thomas gave him a soft look. “Newt, I know this is strange for you, and I don’t want to give you any reason to feel like this isn’t going to work. Truth is, I’ve been kinda hoping someone would say something about making us all exclusive. Apart from you, we haven’t really had anyone else for ages, and I think eventually it gets too much.”

"Have you seen Gally?"

Thomas frowned, taking his own glance around the club before turning back to Newt. "No, why?"

Newt shrugged it off, working to make the three vodka shots someone just ordered at Thomas's side. "No, nothing. Just haven't seen him. So you have doubts about this relationship too?"

Thomas leant his elbows on the table, letting out a sigh. "I don't have any doubts. Just that there's a lot of us. Y'know? Sometimes it's hard to please everyone. Most of the time we just vote. Teresa and I wanted a dog but everyone else wanted a cat. So now we have Mow. Teresa wanted me to move in with the girls, the rest of us, me excluded, thought it was overkill since they were just upstairs. Ben's wanted to move in with us since his first beer and pizza night, but the rest of us agree he has too much stuff. You can't make everyone happy all the time, it's just not realistic."

"So why don't you just leave?" Newt asked, glancing at the man he thought might be Gally but revealed himself to be moustachioed and small-nosed when he turned into the light. He pushed his newly poured drinks in the direction of the gentleman who'd just ordered them and stuffed the money into the counter without bothering to count.

Thomas scoffed. "You make sacrifices for the people you love, Newt. Not the kind of sacrifices where you're getting hurt just so they can keep loving you. But I can cope with having to bring a night bag over to see my girlfriends, and Mow makes Brenda so happy. And I'm pretty sure Ben is still enjoying living alone because if I lived with them, he and Minho would never get to fool around. The love you feel outweighs the upset of having to give up something you wanted."

Newt paused. "What would I have to sacrifice then?"

Thomas shrugged in his direction. "Perhaps your love for hard drugs?" Newt forced a sarcastic laugh. "I don't know. What is it that you want?"

Newt didn't know the answer to that question. He wanted a normal life. He wanted to cuddle Mow and smoke on the couch at home. He wanted to go to sleep. He wanted to be in love.

"You." He didn't mean to sound so smug about that answer. He didn't think he'd ever said anything so cliche. "I want you and Minho. I guess my sacrifice would have to be that I can't have you alone."

Thomas smiled wearily at him. He took a sip from his drink, and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. "Well, you know what else people make in relationships?"

"Love?" Newt answered, with a raised eyebrow.

"Compromises," Thomas corrected him. "I'd be honoured to compromise with you and be exclusive to just those people who I'm already dating."

Newt gave him a wide grin, glancing up at the rafters to see if he could find a figure resembling Gally. The lights were on, so someone was definitely up there. "Fuck off, smart arse. We're starting to sound like a romantic comedy and it's making me want to puke in my mouth."

“Okay,” Thomas smirked, watching Newt's hands pour alcohol into empty glasses before he slid off his seat. "Pee break."

All the better for Newt, who could slip away from the bar inconspicuously to check upstairs.

Thomas walked away, and Newt was too busy placing shot glasses on a tray to wonder why he'd gone toward the stage instead of the bathroom. Maybe he was going around the tables.

Newt didn't bother to think about it too much. Instead, he finished up his order, clicked the bottle top off of a beer and made his way out from behind the bar. Trina gave him a weird look as he pulled the barrier up and walked through, so he grabbed a tray on his way out so she might think he was making himself busy.

He zig-zagged through tables, pretending to look busy on his way to the Gally Door. A few people stopped him to order from him, but he wasn't paying attention - focused on the door across the room.

Through the door, the brightness of the staircase once again took his eyes by surprise. But that didn’t matter. He held his tray against his stomach from the bottom, the way he used to do with his school books, and trudged up the stairs.

Gally looked just as drugged up as last time. Only he’d put all his stuff away. Newt could work with that.

He was sitting staring out to the stage, the girls dancing, messing with a dial on his machine thing. One glance was enough for him to recognise Newt, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

”Get out of here, Kyle.” Newt looked down at his name tag. “You should have told me you live with Thomas, he’d kill me if he knew I gave you drugs. Not to mention you barely paid me for last time. I wasted some good shit on you.”

Newt set the tray down next to the door, shut it behind him. “I can pay.”

Gally scoffed, messing with a few more dials as the song ended, and he had to play the next one. “You’re working for me, I know how much money you don’t have.”

"I get tips, you know." Newt sauntered forward, reaching into his apron's pocket, fishing out notes to drop in front of Gally.

Ten dollars. Ten fucking dollars. Newt frowned down at the money, as Gally made a scornful laugh. "What are you hoping to buy with that, kiddo?"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck it. He had to.

Newt tucked his hair behind his ears, then squeezed his arms close to him. He felt cold, as a shaky breath came out of his mouth.

”I...” The fact that he was here again, doing this again, making this mistake once again, made his whole body ache for peace. But he was craving a rush, to no end.

”I can pay.” He felt sick just saying it. But what was one more time to get that high?

How else was he going to get that release?

Gally finally turned his head to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. Newt tried to steady his breathing lest he start crying, and gritted his teeth as he dropped his pants to his ankles.

There was no surprise on Gally’s face. Just deliberation. Thinking. Considering. Staring Newt up and down. "Is this how you got Minho and Thomas on your leash?"

Newt closed his eyes. “Drugs first. Then I’ll let you do whatever you want.”

Gally stood up, raised eyebrows. “Drugs first? Who do you think I am? You never hand over the dope before getting the cash, every dealer knows that.”

Newt instinctively took a step away as Gally’s hands reached his hips, but he forced himself to stay put, breathing heavy and trying not to be scared. "No, wait, I want to be high."

"You and me both."

Gally bent him over the desk, so he let tears drip onto the table where Gally couldn’t see, and squeezed his eyes shut ready to feel violated the way he was pretty much used to by now.

But the door opened, and pairs of feet stumbled in, one of them attacking Gally instantaneously.

Newt let out a quiet sob, grabbing his pants and yanking them up, head twisted behind him to watch Brenda straddle a bloody-nosed Gally.

Teresa approached, carefully wrapped warm arms around Newt, as the two of them watched Brenda fist at Gally’s face. “Don’t you fucking dare touch him again!”

Gally was unconscious but Brenda was still angry, and Newt let relief course through him as he wiped his eyes. Teresa held his waist, grabbing the edge of the rafter and yelling down, "Tom! Minho!"

Heads shot up to look but Teresa pulled him away and held him close to her almost bare chest. "It's okay. Honey, it's okay."

The door opened again, and Teresa catapulted Newt into Minho’s warm body so she could grab her girlfriend.

Newt sobbed into Minho’s shoulder, holding a newly appeared Thomas’s nape to keep his arms around his waist, overlapping Minho’s.

”Brenda, stop! Fucking hell, Bren!"

Minho squeezed him, running hands over his hair, still in costume from his last time on stage, as Thomas hurried towards Brenda and the girls, grabbing Brenda's armpits and yanking her off of Gally.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He yelled, discarding her onto the counter with a stern frown. "What's going on?"

Brenda stood up, squared up to her boyfriend with flared nostrils and bloody knuckles. "You said don't let Newt near Gally, so when I try to stop our Newtie from hooking up with that shithead, you get mad at me? Tom, he deserves it!"

Thomas paused, and Newt wiped his eyes again because the tears welling in them came from Thomas's strained, "You were having sex? With Gally?"

"For drugs," Newt whimpered. "He was going to dose me up if I-"

"It's okay," Minho whispered to him, running his fingers through his hair. "Newt, calm down. It's alright. I'm going to call Ben, he'll come to pick you up and take you home, okay? Girls, you're on in five minutes, I'll see if I can get anyone to take my place for tonight. Thomas, you need to take Gally to the hospital. Now."

Thomas nodded, hurrying to pick up the corpse-like body on the floor. Minho didn't let Newt wait around to see. He held Newt's waist and pulled him away, down towards the stairs. Newt didn't wipe his eyes again until they made it backstage, to the dressing rooms, and Minho pulled a chair out for him, holding his face.

"Newt," he said, his voice breaking a bit. "You don't have to do that. Baby, it breaks my heart that you...you'd even consider that."

Newt looked down at his knees. "Stop looking at me like that. Just call Ben, I want to go home."

"Like what?" Minho asked him.

Newt looked up at him. "Like I chose. Like I'm missing some big other option that I could choose instead of this. This is my life, Minho. Doing whatever I can to get some release from these horrible cravings. This is what it's like. I know you don't get it. I know you think I'm doing all this because I want to. I don't want to. I want to be with you and Tommy and live the way you and Tommy do but I'm not like that. I'm trapped, and there's no way out, and no amount of you not understanding that is going to help anything."

Minho stared at him, hard faced. He almost looked angry, but the hint of a tear in his right eye softened him. He spoke. Quiet, but serious. Like they were the most important words he'd ever say.

"You chose us. You chose to come and move in, you chose to take on this job. If you think you don't have a choice, that's bullshit. You're halfway there. Just a little longer. Just a little more. And Thomas and I will be right by your side." He grabbed a box from the nearest dressing table, yanked a cigarette out of it and shoved it in Newt's mouth. "Smoke this, sit tight. I'm calling Ben."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyy still sportin that heckin fever :')))) i did my best with the achy head and such, so i hope you liked it  
> more coming soon. next week maybe. don't hold me to that i'm sick and spend most of my days asleep lmaooo  
> i hope u liked this anyway  
> leave love :)


	22. Sounds Like Love

Newt got dressed out of his uniform and sat next to the door, Minho as a chaperone, waiting for Ben. Minho said he was working but he could get someone to stand in for him easier than Minho could, who’d been trying for half an hour before Ben turned up.

Despite being a mechanic, his own vehicle was battered. Dents in all the doors, stuff all over the floors, one of the wing-mirrors were taped on with duct-tape. Newt almost thought twice about getting in it, it looked like it might fall apart if you even set a hand on it.

But he wanted to get home. Desperately.

He wanted to take a bath and forget this night ever happened.

He was fired for sure. Brenda definitely was. Newt felt bad. But then again he didn’t tell her to break her boss’s nose.

He wished he’d thanked her, but he hadn’t had time. Ben had pulled up outside the club just as she got off stage, so he just had to send her a nod and hope she saw it.

Ben shoved his set of keys into the apartment door, pushing it open with a long sigh. "So, remind me what happened again? You and Gally were going at it-"

Newt's stomach twisted as he stepped into the apartment, pulling down his sleeves as he made his way to the kitchen, clicked the kettle on. "We weren't going at anything. And I told you, I don't want to talk about it."

"Last time," Ben promised that earlier. He closed up the door and followed Newt to the kitchen, pulling two mugs out of the cupboard. "Then Brenda came in, went all kung fu on his ass, and now Brenda's lost her job?"

"Probably lost her job," Newt corrected, grabbing the teabags and dropping them into the mugs. "Look, Ben, I just want to forget it. Seriously."

Ben nodded. "Got it."

Newt took a drag of his cigarette - he'd been chainsmoking since he left the club. Luckily Ben didn't have any rules against smoking in his car, as long as Newt kept the window open. He exhaled, as Ben poured boiling water into the mugs. "Minho said it was for drugs, right?"

"Ben, I don't want to bloody talk about it," he snapped. Ben nodded again, averting his eyes. He cupped his tea in both hands and raised it to his mouth, blowing.

Then he set it down. "So, Minho  _and_ Thomas, how's that doin' ya? I mean, Minho's a handful in bed but Thomas, I've heard he's pretty good at reigning him in. I've never had Min like that but I bet he's gentle with you."

Newt rolled his eyes, stuffing his cigarette in his mouth. "That's personal."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Ben agreed, taking a sip of his drink. "Personal. Obviously. But Minho's my boyfriend, I want to know what he gets up to in his spare time when he's not missing me to death."

Newt frowned, finding heat in his mug because the rest of him went cold. "Ben, stop playing. Am I really supposed to tell you those things?"

Ben stole his cigarette from between his lips. "No. Sorry. I'm just kidding. I forget you're still on the fence about this whole thing."

Newt watched him inhale, exhale, then pull the cigarette out of his mouth. He couldn't help the face he made, frowny and anxious. "You all...You're all close, aren't you? I mean, that's why you talk about that stuff. Not because you have to. Right? You don't have some kind of, like, disclosure agreement."

Ben furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

Newt took his cigarette back. "I can't tell if I'd rather know every detail about what my boyfriend's been up to with other guys or know nothing and just hope he hasn't contracted anything. It's not in the open relationship rules that you have to tell Minho what you get up to all the time, is it?"

"No," Ben smirked. "No, it's not in any of the rules. You set your own rules. See, if you didn't want to be exclusive, you wouldn't have to say anything. If you french-kissed that Dante you were creaming over at the club, you wouldn't have to tell anyone. But hey, if you kissed me or something, I think Min would want to know about that. I guess that's the only thing you'd have to tell them about."

Newt smoked his cigarette, looking into his tea. "Ben, no offence, but I don't want to kiss you."

Ben chuckled, pulling his mug to his lips. "It was an example, not an offer. I'm wildly in love with your muscly dancing boyfriend, you're not exactly my type."

Newt dabbed his cigarette out on the counter and wiped the ash away, stuffing the cig butt into the trash bin under the counter. There was no use correcting him about the boyfriend thing.

"Can I ask you a question?" Ben asked, as Newt brought his mug to his face and let the warmth heat up his lips. He didn't nod or shake his head, but Ben asked anyway. "Why do you do that to yourself? Whore yourself out for drugs? You're a hot guy, it's a waste of a great body to let people use it the way you do. Minho told me about that night at the homeless shelter, what you did for that baggie. It's not right."

Newt frowned and took a sip. The liquid scolded his tongue but he didn't care. "How different is it for Brenda and Teresa dancing and letting strangers grope them for money? If I had money, I'd just use it for drugs anyway. Might as well cut out the middleman."

Ben paused. He let out a small sigh. "Okay. Fine. But Gally? That guy's diseased from his hippocampus to his pinky toe."

"Drugs make you crazy," Newt tutted. "I'd do anything."

Ben snorted. "Sounds like love."

Newt stopped, stared at him for a moment. It did, didn't it? Love made Newt crazy. And he could never see the harm it was doing him, too caught up in the rush of how good the good times felt.

But love was good. Love wouldn't kill Newt before he could get to twenty-two. It didn't. It hadn't. Maybe it hurt. But it hurt less than withdrawal.

"Man," he exhaled. "What I wouldn't give to be addicted to sex instead of heroin."

Ben giggled. "Don't say that, I used to know a guy."

Newt sent him a forced smile. It was getting late. He'd planned to collapse into bed the second he got through the door, but tea had sounded nice. He took a sip and held the mug between both palms.

"I'm going to go to bed," he said. Ben gave him a soft nod.

"Do you want me to stay?" He asked, picking up his own mug. "I can sit and watch TV until the guys get back, make sure you don't go on another prostitution adventure."

Newt rolled his eyes. "Don't be a dick. You can go, I'm just going to sleep."

Ben made a face. "Nah, I think I'll stay. Minho would kill me if he knew I left you here alone."

Newt didn't care. He picked up his mug and made it to the bathroom.

He had just enough energy to take a shower, still feeling as though he was covered in dirt from where Gally had held his hips. He put on a pair of boxers that wasn't his and climbed into his bed - the one he'd been missing for weeks. Tommy and Minho's bed.

The bed was comfortable, and the sheets still smelt of the boys from the night before last. Unless they moved from the couch last night after Newt had gone to sleep.

Newt closed his eyes, taking in the scent of Minho's hair gel. And Thomas's cologne. He could bathe in that smell. He could breathe it in every second of every day - a replacement for smoking.

He felt warmth envelop him, as strong arms that held his hips, and let out a groan. "Ben, get off."

"Shh," a voice cooed back. "It's me, I sent Ben home."

"You," Newt moaned, half asleep, eyes still closed. His hand searched for something to indicate who's arms he was in - a face, hair, the size of a bicep. "Who's you?"

"Minho," the voice replied, as Newt found a face and felt around for stubble - Minho shaved his face every day but Thomas didn't keep with the upkeep as often, he always had a prickly jaw. "Thomas is on his way home from the hospital, he said Gally needs stitches but he'll be okay. Don't worry, he's leaving Gally at the ER."

Newt found lips with his thumb tip, soft and warm. Still talking, making up mumbo jumbo English words that sounded drowned to Newt.

Like a drug. That’s what these boys were. And that high was remarkable.

He brought his face to his thumb, kissing Minho's lips slightly off-kilter, but still a kiss.

Minho shut up, finally. He kissed Newt back, soft and warm, like his lips. Gentle. Kind. There were a bunch of words for that kiss, but none came to Newt's mind.

Unsurprisingly, Minho pulled back first. With a wet squelch that made Newt bite his lip. He opened his eyes, seeing Minho, dark-eyed and skin shimmering from the glittery make-up the girls wore at the club. He wasn't smiling exactly, but his mouth was upturned on one side. "Newt, I thought you wanted to make a big deal out of our first kiss. That was nice, but it's not what I thought you wanted."

Newt let his lip go. "I really was going to let Gally do that tonight. I barely thought about it, I was going to let him do it. I'd kiss dirty strangers for drugs but I won't kiss people I love _for_ love."

The faintest smile crept up Minho's face. "Newtie Cambridge said the L Word."

Newt rolled his eyes, running a hand over Minho's hair. "Min, I'm making progress. Shut up."

Minho nodded, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, his eyes twinkling at Newt's. "Can I kiss you again?"

Newt pushed in to kiss him, so he didn't have to answer such a ridiculous question, and felt Minho hold his face as if he was made of porcelain.

He closed his eyes, feeling those gentle touches like burns against his skin. It had been so long since he’d been held like that, in this context anyway. Touched like a fragile china plate.

Minho pulled back again, his hand on Newt’s jaw. He looked at him for a moment. Then he whispered, “Newt. You’re beautiful. You don’t have to ever use your body like that again. Promise me you won’t.”

Newt looked away. He was ashamed. Embarrassed that everyone had found out.

Minho kissed his top lip before he pressed his forehead against Newt’s. “You’re worth so much more than a lot of the things you put yourself through. And that’s one of those things, Newt. I lov- ...I adore you. It hurts to see you do that to yourself.”

Newt looked up at him, swallowed. “I lov-adore you too, Min. I promise it won’t happen again.”

Minho gave him a small smile, leaning in to kiss his bottom lip, whispering something in Korean. Newt didn't bother asking what. Minho would have to pull back again, and it wasn't worth it.

Minho didn't try to push to take it further, which Newt appreciated. After tonight, he felt sick at the thought of letting anyone touch him that way for at least a few more hours.

He wrapped his arms around Minho's neck, though, holding him close. He didn't want sex, but the feeling of Minho's warm body against his own was like a release from a craving he had barely noticed. And those kisses on his lips were as good as shooting up. Maybe not heroin, but something good. Just lying next to this boy, lips to lips, hands to hips, chest to chest, was worth all that happened tonight, to remind Newt that it was dumb to wait when he so clearly wanted it. He'd have to thank Thomas and Ben for that, in the near future.

Truth be told, he was in a daze when he heard the bedroom door swing open. Minho still kissing him, kind of drifting towards sleeping, but still aware of his surroundings, and with his thumb still caressing Minho's face.

A voice woke him up. Tommy's. "Newt, tell me he was lying."

Newt opened his eyes, pulling himself back, and wiping his mouth with the side of his finger. "What?"

Thomas sat on the bed. He looked devastated. His eyes were rounded by red rashes where he'd wiped at tears, and his eyelashes all wet and clumpy. His lip had swollen, in an about-to-cry way, and his eyes were glassy, and Minho hurried to wrap an arm around his shoulders. "Oh, god, what is it, _yobo_?"

"Newt..." he stifled a sob, turning to the blond boy alone on his side of the bed. Cold, suddenly. He felt accused, and he didn't even know what of yet. "Gally said... Gally said last time he gave you drugs, you...you did...you had to- you had to..."

Newt furrowed his eyebrows. He twisted onto his front, and crawled over to Thomas, shaking his head. "Tommy, Tommy, he's lying. Last time, I paid him in my wages. Calm down...love."

The word came out hesitant, unsure. It had been a while since calling anyone that. Alby probably, maybe only a few weeks ago. But now, it was Tommy. And Minho, maybe. It felt a little crazy.

But Tommy was crying, on the brink of a sobbing fit. Now wasn't the time to hold back all the dumb things he'd spent the last twenty minutes, maybe longer, trying to get past.

Shit. Look what he was doing to these sweet, sweet guys. Minho had Thomas’s face, wiping at every tear that dared to drip out of his eye. His hands weren’t shaking but he couldn’t keep them still, fidgeting with Thomas’s shirt or hair, or something to keep themselves busy.

Newt held back tears himself. “Tommy, please don’t cry. It’s not true. Tonight was a lapse, I never did anything with Gally before that. Stop crying.”

Thomas closed his eyes, turning to him, whimpering. “I’m sorry. I’m just overwhelmed.”

Newt felt helpless, staring at him, unable to do anything for him.

But Minho brought his head to his shoulder and held him like he knew how. His eyes flicked Newt-ward. “These past few weeks have been hard on him, Newt. Looks like tonight was just the last straw. Don’t take it personally, alright? I know how much he cares about you.”

Newt stood up, frowned at the couple. Fuck. He should just go back to the other room, let these two work through the issue. They obviously knew what they were doing a hundred times more than Newt did.

He clamped down on his lip and stumbled to stand up, at first moving toward the door. But Minho was right. He had choices. One was to leave, and one was to try to fix the mess he'd made. Try to make the things he'd made bad, better. It would be a first time in a while he'd tried to right a wrong. And that was a normal person thing to do, he was sure.

And why would he have to leave his boyfriends to be upset, without helping them? How could he do that? And yes. Boyfriends. Fuck all that waiting bullshit. These two couldn't hurt him any more than Alby had. To deny himself their love was a self-sabotage that might be worse than relapsing a few weeks ago.

He turned to look at the two boys, huddled together, upset but trying desperately to calm down. Probably for Newt's sake.

Newt sat behind Minho because that was the only place there was room for him. Hesitant, but sure of himself, he reached out a hand and soothed Thomas's hair, the way Thomas had done to him when he was in withdrawal.

"Tommy, you can cry, I'm sorry," he whispered because he was afraid his voice might crack. "This has been hard on us all. If you want to bloody cry, I'd be wrong to tell you not to."

Thomas's face scrunched up in Minho's arms, against his chest. He let out an estranged sob as if now that he had permission, he could really let it out. He was an ugly crier, his mouth wide open and snot dribbling out of his nose. But Newt couldn't judge him based on what Thomas had seen and not judged him for this past fortnight.

Newt pressed his face to Thomas's, kissing off-centre of his cheek. "I'm sorry for all the hurt I've caused, Tommy. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better."

Thomas shook his head, taking Newt's hand and bringing it to his face while he wiped his tears on the back of his own hand. "Newt, you don't have to apologise. You don't have to do anything."

Newt sniffed. He let out a long exhale, then nodded towards the pillows. “How about we just go to sleep, forget any of this ever happened?”

Minho sent Newt a small smile. He stood up, with a kiss to Thomas’s head; stripped to his boxers and got under the covers on the right side of the bed.

Newt and Thomas followed him to lay down, arms everywhere and legs tangled. Thomas in middle, facing Newt but clutching Minho’s hand across his waist like it was a limb at risk of falling off. He held his other hand below Newt’s neck, leaning in as close as possible and hugging Thomas even though it was too hot in the room to be so close to another warm body.

He closed his eyes - this whole sleeping thing was his idea. But he didn’t know if he could just leave Thomas like that. He looked up at the boy’s face, eyes closed but still red around them.

”Tommy?”

Thomas opened his eyes as if glad for the interruption. Newt pushed himself up to kiss his chin, salty with tears. When he pulled back, he nodded. “I know what it’s like to care about someone who does nothing but upset you. I can’t say it won’t break my heart, but I get it if you don’t want to be with me. I don’t want you to be unhappy because of me, I’ve been the villain before and I don’t like it.”

Minho looked over Tommy’s shoulder, making an anticipating face at Newt. Thomas just shook his head, a tear following the curve of his nose. “No. No, Newt, baby. You make me happy. It’s my own issues, it’s not about you.”

Newt frowned, pulling in closer to hold Thomas tight.

They were going to get through this together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo, so I'm still slowly recovering from The Flu, but finally I'm startin' to get better. Hopefully next time I post it'll be with the news that I've recovered fully!  
> I hope you like this chapter, thank you for reading!  
> Leave love ;)


	23. Fake Wedding, Real Pregnancy

“Tommy?”

Thomas rubbed his eye with the side of his palm, Minho shifting on his chest, disturbed by the small British whisper.

He turned his head, eyeing Newt expectantly. He was all sleepy, his hair a mess, he looked cute. Newt held his hand, probably had done all night, holding it near his chest. “Were you awake?”

Thomas blinked sleepily at him. “Little bit.”

Newt closed his eyes. “I had a dream about last night, woke me up."

Thomas bit his bottom lip. He’d forgotten last night and he’d be glad to.

Gally was furious. He came to in Thomas’s car, on the way to the hospital, and the first thing he did was light a cigarette and murmur, “If that bitch tries to come into my goddamn club again I’m going to send her out on her ass.”

Thomas sent him a glare. He wished he could slam his big fat head through the car window but the last thing he needed was to aggravate Gally more. He wasn’t the man to upset. Knowing Gally he’d get Teresa fired too just for dating Thomas and Brenda.

Newt pushed himself up, looking through half-shut eyes at Minho, who was sleeping soundly, drooling onto his pillow. Thomas half-laughed, too tired to smile properly. "At least one of us is getting a lie-in, huh, Minho?”

Newt gave him an attempt at a sly smile. “He looks so peaceful.”

Thomas shook his head, pulling his hand out from Newt’s and pushing his bedhead out of his eyes. “So did you.”

Newt smiled slightly. “Do you feel better this morning?”

Thomas diverted his glance to Minho. He didn’t want to talk about it. It’s not that he was embarrassed, he just didn’t want to make Newt feel like any of this was his fault. And besides, last night he was just tired and he couldn’t hold back all his stress. He knew it was coming this whole time, but he’d hoped he wouldn’t break in front of Newt. He’d blame himself and it wasn’t his fault.

Thomas paused, the image of last night rolling in his head. His eyes were all teary but he was sure Newt and Minho were making out when he got home last night.

He turned his head to Newt, narrowing his eyes. “Hey, Newt, were you and Min kissing last night?”

Newt opened his eyes because at some point they’d closed. He looked up at Thomas, letting out a tired breath. “Yeah. Um, I decided I don’t want to wait. I care too much about you guys, y’know? Besides, you’re right, I don’t have to make a big deal about it if it’s with you.”

Thomas’s lip curled. “Oh. Well, that’s excellent news, Mr Cambridge.”

Newt smirked at him, pushing up to peck Thomas’s lips. Thomas smiled at him as he rested his head on Thomas’s chest, his hand pressing circles on his collarbone. He made a face at the sleeping Asian on his other shoulder and shook him gently. If Newt and Thomas didn't get a lie in, neither did Minho.

Minho opened his eyes, not woken by the shaking, but a voice from the living room. "Mom, we haven't talked about it yet. Would you relax?"

Newt sat up as if he wasn't comfortable laying on Thomas anymore, and he let go of his hand. It was probably Teresa being here, but Thomas knew he'd get used to it. Teresa appeared in the doorway, walking across the apartment with a scowl, checking behind things as if she was looking for something. Her cell phone pressed to her ear, her hair tied up messily and her lips shining with balm as if she was not long out of bed but had made some effort before coming downstairs.

Thomas glanced at Newt, and when he looked back to Teresa, she'd found what she was looking for. Mow, clutched in her arms as she held her phone between her cheek and her shoulder. She was heading back to the window near the fire escape when she caught sight of Thomas, awake.

"Mom, you can talk to him yourself if you want," she said, with a wicked wink at Thomas, who frowned. He hated Teresa's parents, most importantly her mother. She was one of those women who'd sin like hell but clap her daughter around the earhole with a bible if she even thought of stepping out of line. Like some sort of Big Brother figure, it was a wonder how she hadn't already figured out that Teresa had a girlfriend as well as her astute 'fiance' to be, Thomas. "We just don't have the money for a huge wedding right now. No, mom, I won't accept your money."

She approached, set Mow down on Newt’s lap, climbed over Thomas and sat on his chest, pecked his lips. "She wants to talk to you."

Thomas glanced at Newt, who was watching this whole scene unravel with thoughts all over his face. Thomas worried he'd feel weird about Teresa literally straddling his boyfriend- romantic partner...boyfriend. But he just seemed to be watching, thinking it all out.

Teresa handed Thomas her phone, and Thomas scowled at her as he held it to his ear. "Hey, Mrs Agnes. It's been so long."

Teresa gave Newt a polite grin as her mother replied, "Thomas, tell our daughter you're having a wedding by the end of this year. Wedding now, babies in a couple of years. It's a race against time with her body. Haven't I told you about the women in our family? And I won't be having you make me a grandmother before you get married, that's where I draw the line. I'll be the embarrassment of my church. It's bad enough that you've already broken that precious seal before marriage, a child out of wedlock is out of the question."

"Of course, Mrs Agnes, I wouldn't dream of that," Thomas answered, looking to Minho who had been undisturbed. "Unfortunately, money is a major issue. And I doubt Teresa has the time with her awfully busy job to plan a wedding. It'll have to wait."

"Thomas, I swear on God, if you don't give me a wedding soon, I'll find Teresa a suitable husband with enough guts to marry her."

Thomas scowled, rolling his eyes. “We’ll do what we can.”

The dial tone played before any goodbyes could be made. Thomas handed Teresa her phone back, frowning. “What is up with that woman?”

Teresa smiled, leaning down to kiss him on the lips, massaging his chest playfully. “Relax, baby. One fake wedding, one real pregnancy, and we’re free.”

Thomas smiled against her mouth. “Hey, let's think about getting a billion hours of sleep before we plan for kids, T. Mini versions of you and me are not going to be easy to handle.”

Teresa laughed, pulling back from Thomas. “You’re right about that. I should probably get back to Brenda, she was so upset last night over losing her job, I came to get Mow to cheer her up. Can you stay over tonight, Tom, see if you can’t work some magic? It has been ages.”

Thomas looked at Newt. He was certainly used to sharing his time, but he’d only just gotten Newt to kiss him. He didn’t want to push anything that might make him uncomfortable. If he was unhappy, Thomas could stay with her through the day, make sure she was alright.

Newt only seemed to realise the choice was his when Teresa turned to him. He furrowed his eyebrows, as if he was thinking it over, which Thomas liked. He wouldn’t just throw himself in without being sure he was ready for it.

After a small moment, he gave Thomas a smile. “That’s a good idea. Brenda needs you.”

Thomas smiled back at him, reaching out to hold his hand, as Teresa took Mow and stood up. “I shall return.”

Thomas gave her a grin as she sauntered off, disappearing behind the bedroom wall.

When she was gone, Thomas rolled over, facing Newt. Newt, who was still sitting up, his brain cogs working overtime.

Thomas squeezed his hand. “Newt, I want you to tell me if it gets weird for you. You don’t have to be guilty or embarrassed, alright? It was weird for all of us when we first started.”

Newt exhaled, sliding down the headboard to lie next to Thomas’s body. He smiled slightly, said, “It’s weird, but it’s you. It’s not a dealbreaker...anymore.”

Thomas smiled at him, pushing in to press a kiss to his face. He pulled away. “What about when Teresa kissed me, was that weird? I can tell her to back off for a while if you want me to.”

Newt thought it over, before nodding. “It was weird, but you don’t have to talk to her or anything. It’s just something I’ll get used to.”

Thomas gave him a small smile. “You’re so cool.”

Newt smirked, pulling the bed sheets over his shoulders. “We should probably get up soon.”

Thomas shuffled closer to him. “Yeah, we should.”

”I should go out today, apply for a job somewhere.” Newt scooted his head across the pillow until he reached Thomas’s face, and rested his forehead against his chin. “I should probably look around for a new recovery centre, somewhere I can go for meetings. It’s in the rules that I don’t go too long without one.”

Thomas kissed his golden hair, running a thumb over his cheek. “I’ll come with you to find a new meeting place, but you could always come stack shelves for me at the library for a job. It’s not as glamorous as waiting tables, but if you like to read, it’s a peaceful place.”

Newt raised his head, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “That’s mighty nice of you, Tommy, but I want to apply and earn a job like normal people do.”

Thomas shook his head. “Newt, normal people accept help when they need it. You don’t have any qualifications, you’ll end up packing groceries at the store for a dollar an hour. Besides, it’s flexible and if you want to get your education, you’ll need to have time for classes.”

Newt narrowed his eyes. It looked as if he hadn’t processed the words yet, and when he did, his eyes narrowed more. “You’re right, Tommy, and that makes me really upset.”

Thomas kissed him, gentle but quick. “It’s alright. You’ve got to stop thinking that struggling and starting at the bottom step is the precedent when people are trying to help you get to the third one. It’s not shameful to get help.”

Newt closed his eyes, kissing Thomas again. It was hard to stop once they’d started this back and forth pecking.

Thomas pulled back because he heard Minho groan behind him, and promptly got an arm across his waist, tugging at a neat ribbon tied in the strings in the waist of Newt’s boxers. Newt slapped his hand and pushed it away from him with a half-smirk. “Minho, Thomas is a couple feet to the left.”

Thomas smirked at him as Minho let out a snore, and Newt kissed his lips, then Minho’s head, as he stood up. “I’ll leave you two to it. I need a shower and then we can search online for local community halls and stuff. For meetings. Yeah?”

Thomas gave him a smile, watched him walk over to the en-suite, and whispered, “Min, I know you’re awake.”

Minho opened his eyes, pretending not to be holding giggles behind his oblivious smile. Thomas kissed him, humming. “I’m staying with the girls tonight, so, you know, if you wanna invite Ben over, make sure Newt’s okay with it first.”

Minho smiled. “I know. I think Ben’s working tonight anyway, but I’ll call him.”

Thomas kissed him again, before pushing away to sit up slightly, leaning his head against the headboard. “I’ve got a boyfriend now. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to call anyone that.”

Minho held his arm, kissing it gently. “Can I ask you a question?”

Thomas nodded, so Minho continued, eyebrows furrowed as if he was serious. “Are you okay with dating Newt? Be honest. Please.”

Thomas frowned. “Of course I am, Min. He’s Newt. I’m really happy he’s getting more comfortable around us. Why do you ask, are you having doubts?”

Minho shook his head rapidly. “No, no, no. I just wanted to check in on you after last night, make sure there isn’t something we need to address.”

”Thanks, Min, but I’m really fine.” Thomas gave him a vague smile. “Last night it all just got too much. It happens. It doesn’t mean I didn’t almost puke butterflies when he wrapped his arms around me.”

Minho gave him an evil grin. “Oh, yeah, well, he kissed me.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. "He kissed me too."

Minho bit his lip, trying to hide his cutesy grin like he was a schoolgirl from an anime. "How do I explain how excited I am about him without sounding lame?"

"You can't, it's impossible,” Thomas smiled at him. Minho gave him this happy look, and Thomas couldn’t help grabbing his hand, wanting to feel this moment with him for a moment. They’d fallen in love again, this time with a beautiful, compassionate boy who was throwing away everything he used to think about love to be with them.

With so many partners and a lot of affection going out to so many people, these moments were important. A moment where they could take a look at what they had and be reminded why it was so important to them that they lived the lifestyle that they did. For love. That’s all it was, it was all because they’d neglected to turn their back on that amazing feeling of falling in love once they’d settled with one person.

To be in love over and over again was a privilege. Thomas could never live any other way.

Minho definitely couldn’t. As Thomas stared at his dark features, his rosy lips, he couldn’t help smiling to himself. Without an open relationship, Minho would be stifled. He’d stay faithful, he wasn’t the cheating kind of guy. But there’d be some of his sparks dimmed. He had too many strong feelings to direct at other people to let anyone hold him down.

”This boy’s good for us,” Thomas whispered, staring deep into Minho’s hazelnut-coloured eyes. “No matter what, we're going to stick by his side.”

Minho let out a hum. "What gave you the impression I didn't already know that?"

Thomas closed his eyes, smirking.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Finally kicked this bloody fever, feelin' dandy :) Thanks for the well-wishes, they're so sweet!  
> Here's a fluffy fun-ish chapter for ya to make up for the mEss these Boys have been through in this fic. Damn it's been fun to write the sweet stuff for a change lmao  
> I hope you liked this chapter, thank you so much for reading!  
> Leave love!


	24. Hot & Cold

Newt stood outside the apartment door, waiting for Minho to get his kicks on, looking at the elevator. He'd been debating popping upstairs to speak to Brenda all morning. It wasn't all his fault that she lost her job but he couldn't say he had nothing to do with it, and he needed to apologise. She deserved it. She was amazing at her job, and Newt could tell how much she loved being able to dance with her friends and her girlfriend. Now that was gone, and Newt just wanted to tell her he was sorry that it was. Whether she considered it his fault or not.

Minho was in the elevator before Newt could make a decision about going upstairs. Tommy was locking up the apartment so Newt followed Minho into the lift and leant against the back wall. Thomas joined them after a moment and pressed some buttons, as Minho poked the back of Newt’s hand.

The blond frowned - habit. He looked up, saw Minho’s index curling around Newt’s. Newt’s frown deepened. “Are you trying to hold my hand?”

Thomas looked up, as Minho paused. “Well, I was gonna. I guess I should have asked first.”

Newt frowned again, at the floor. Thinking deeply. About Minho, about hand-holding, about Ben, about love.

He pushed his hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear. “I don’t want to do that in public. There’s something weird about it.”

Minho heard that a few times in his head as the lift doors opened and Newt made awkward steps to get out. He hadn’t meant to come off as harsh or to get this hard-hitting reaction from Minho. Even Thomas seemed to be thinking the words over.

He moved first actually, but Minho got Newt’s hand first, with a split second between him and Thomas grabbing his palms and holding his hands with looks on their faces like they knew that Newt wanted to slap them sideways right now.

”What are you doing?” Newt asked. He was trying not to be upset, as the trio walked through the hall and towards the door.

Thomas pressed his free hand against Newt’s spine. “It’s always going to be weird, Newt. D’you know how many judgy looks we get when the girls and I go out for dates? But you can’t let other people stop you from feeling how loved you are. We’re proud. We wanna show off to the world the amazing guy we managed to seduce somehow. If we let other people’s judgements dictate the way we show affection, we’re letting hate beat love.”

Newt would bet he got that dumb line from one of his books. But it did make sense. Not that Newt was fully comfortable now with publically holding hands with two boys like some kind of family walking trip. But he didn’t protest, avoiding the eyes of everyone around. To be fair, no one much around the apartment building gave them any judgement. Maybe because Newt looked like a ten-year-old on a stroll with his gay dads.

They got to the bus stop and Newt insisted on letting go of their hands to get on the bus. One, for convenience, and two, he didn’t fancy being stuck in a metal box with someone who didn’t like his lifestyle.

His lifestyle. He smiled slightly as he took a seat in the back, and Minho sat beside him. It wasn’t Minho or Thomas’s lifestyle, it was Newt’s. It was his life.

Living in that apartment, waking up with loving arms around him, beer and pizza night, having a job. It was his life.

Newt leant his head on Minho’s shoulder, this feeling blooming in his chest. He already knew he was in love. But this was different. Hope?

Minho crisscrossed their fingers together and held his hand with his two. “You look like you’re thinkin’ hard,” he whispered.

Newt pushed his head up, searched for Thomas, who was sat in the window seat in front of them, smiling sweetly at the two of them.

”There are meetings in the church downtown,” he said in a hushed voice, watching the boys’ faces. “Alby takes those sometimes too. It might be my only option.”

Minho all out scowled, but Thomas just let his smile drop slightly and took a deep breath. “Okay. We’ll keep looking, and if that’s the only place, then so be it.”

Newt sighed, nuzzling the side of his face in Minho’s shoulder, eyeing the streets outside the opposite windows. “I miss the house sometimes. It’s what I know. My friends are there, I know the routines and the times by heart. I wouldn’t trade you two for the bloody world. Maybe it all just happened so fast I didn’t get the chance to really process it properly.”

Thomas sucked in his bottom lip and nodded seriously. “Okay. Look, we’re not, like... some kind of rebound, right?”

Newt smirked at him, wishing he could grab him and give him a big sloppy kiss but they were on a bus and Newt was already leaning on Minho’s shoulder. “You’re not a rebound, you're an idiot, Tommy Murphy.”

”So where are we taking this bus to? The church?” Minho asked as Thomas gave Newt a grin.

Newt shrugged. “There’s a meeting in about an hour, we could go get lunch together?”

Thomas smiled softly. “You could call it our first real date.”

Newt couldn’t explain how happy that thought made him. He was going on a date, he was holding the hand of a beautiful guy, being smiled at by a gorgeous man, sitting in the mid-day sun on a bus that he didn’t even want to get off at this point. His life had been flipped on its head, and he’d never been so excited for it.

The sun poured in through the window, near blinding Newt, but he could still recognise the slummy streets. They’d left the pretty side of the city that Minho and Thomas lived in, to the class A drug vending machine of downtown.

And despite the sun in his eyes, Newt still recognised the nodded out face of a girl he knew hiding partly under a swipe of hair, but bruised up and bloody. She was laying on the floor, definitely her, legs and bottom half covered by the corner of an alleyway.

The bus was inching through traffic, so Newt got a good look. It was definitely her.

Newt bit his lip, hurried to grab the bell next to his seat, to tell the bus driver he needed to get off at the closest bus stop.

The bus rolled to a stop a few yards later so Newt stood up and hurried off of the vehicle to help the girl in need.

He made it across the road, with Minho calling behind him from the other side, and knelt next to the barely conscious teen.

”Beth? Beth, is that you?” He asked, checking her temperature and holding her wrist for a pulse. It was strange to think this kid was the same one back-talking him in a homeless shelter a few weeks ago. But that’s what happened when you rolled with junkies. They made you feel invincible then cut you down while you weren’t looking.

The girl’s head lolled from side to side so Newt held her neck to save her from pulling any muscles. “Beth, do you remember me? From the homeless shelter?”

She was a mess. And she’d barely even taken the needle out of her skin.

Newt eyed the tiny droplet left in the needle, fighting everything in him to focus on the girl. Thank god Tommy slammed a hand on his shoulder and knelt next to him.

”Who’s this?” He asked as Minho hurried to carefully tug the tip of the needle out of her arm, discarding it on the concrete beside her.

Newt frowned at her, glancing at Thomas. “This is Beth, we met at that homeless shelter. You remember that night, she was with the guy I got my dope from.”

Beth gasped a breath in through her nose as if she was waking up, but her head dropped back against the wall.

Newt shook her shoulders. “Beth, wake up. I need you to tell me your address.”

Minho crossed his arms over his chest, standing up. “Her address? This kid needs a hospital.”

Beth blinked like she’d never open her eyes again, weakly choking out an address.

Thomas recognised it and kept a lookout for the bus, but Newt stayed beside the girl.

”What happened?” Minho asked, grabbing a tissue from his back pocket and wiping some of the dried blood of her face, streaming from her nose.

Beth slapped his hands away. “Don’t touch me.”

Newt wouldn’t have asked that question. Even if Beth had wanted to talk about it, the chances that Newt would want to hear it was slim. He only had one question. “Was it Marcus?”

Beth dropped her head forward, squinting as if she was in pain. “What, is he your boyfriend now?”

Newt frowned.

”Can you stand?” He asked, and Beth glowered half-heartedly at him.

”Kyle, I’ve fallen for this one before,” she croaked, disdain in her eyes. “I bet you have too. Marcus told me what you did.”

Newt stood up, grabbing her arm and yanking her up. “Would you just shut up? I’m taking you home. And my name’s not Kyle.”

Beth scowled at him, stumbling up and letting Newt help her trip and clamber over to the other side of the road, to get to the bus stop.

Thomas sat next to Newt on the bench, while Minho pulled his jacket off and put it over Beth’s shoulders. Newt was going to mention that she was probably feeling heat anyway, if it was heroin she took. But to be fair, she was dressed like one of the girls at Minho’s club more than a fifteen-year-old, and it was good of Minho to try to protect her modesty.

Thomas shared a glance with Newt. One of the first times it was a wordless conversation with Newt not just one of the Murphy/Park crew.

Newt felt the “are you okay?” as if he’d heard it in his head, and nodded, sending him the same look back as an “are you?”

Thomas kissed his head, then stood up and knelt on the side of the bus stop, looking at Beth.

She was really scared. She was bleeding, dressed like a corner prostitute, following strangers to God know where. It looked like she’d been abandoned on the street by Marcus and pals. Newt wouldn’t blame her for not being very trusting.

”How old are you?” Minho asked, glancing at Newt. Beth kicked her shoes off - broken heels that looked like they could have been cutting off the circulation to her toes.

”Fifteen,” she murmured, her eyes down like she was intimidated. “Look, where are you taking me? I don’t know you, I don’t want to go wherever it is.”

Minho looked shocked at her age. Maybe because she was a junkie already.

Newt looked at her feet, her tights ripped around her toes. “I know you’re scared, Beth. It’s okay. We’re taking you home.”

Beth closed her eyes.

Thomas and Newt shared another glance, as Minho let out a sigh and sat on the floor. He pulled off his shoes and stuck them on Beth’s feet, before sitting back next to her on the bench.

Newt gave him a smile that Beth caught the end of. She frowned. “Kyle? Who are these people?”

Newt tucked his hair behind his ear. “This is Minho Park, and that’s Thomas Murphy. And I’m Newt Cambridge, you can stop calling me Kyle.”

Beth took a cautious look from each of the men back to Newt, her eyes welling up. Newt bit his lip and looked at his own tattered shoes. She reminded him so much of himself it almost hurt. She was just a scared little girl, trying to make it on her own because everyone else had abandoned her.

”I know what you’re feeling,” Newt said in a quiet voice. “When I was sixteen I lived in an old abandoned warehouse with three of my friends. We barely ate, drank nothing but alcohol, and got drugs for sex. I used to dress like you do. Like I wasn’t even worth being comfortable, all I was worth was being a plaything for strange men with either money or heroin to spare. It’s hard realising how fucked up everything’s been, but look, you’re catching it early. I played this game for years and years.”

Beth wiped her face, mascara dripping down her face, and smearing on her hands. Newt patted her back, sharing a private breath with her. One the others wouldn’t understand.

The bus pulled up, and the four of them sat towards the back, silent on the journey. No one asked questions, and Beth continued to cry weakly, pretending that she wasn’t but so clearly she was.

The bus stopped and the boys let Beth direct them to the right house. It was a pretty clean street. The kind of street for parents who took their kids to Disney once a year and played ball in the garden. Newt's parents lived on that kind of street. His mother was obsessed with pretending they had a normal white-picket-fence life, even when Newt came out as gay, started smoking at fourteen, became a heroin addict and dropped out of high school.

Thomas and Minho stayed near the gate into the garden of Beth's house, watching from afar. It would do no use to overwhelm her parents. Newt helped her limp to the doorway and pressed the doorbell. There was a ding from inside, then silence.

Newt looked towards Beth. "Do you think they're home? Do you have a key?"

It was a bit of a dumb question - Beth's skirt didn't have pockets, and she didn't have a bag or anything. But either way, Beth shook her head. "They're home. My mom's a housewife, and my dad comes home for lunch."

Newt rang the bell again, pushing his hair out of his face. "How long have you been with Marcus and those guys?"

Beth shrugged, looking at the floor. "I've known them for a few months. I ran away last week."

Her voice had cracked. Newt put a hand on her shoulder and knocked hard on the door.

Newt was about to turn to the road, see if there was a car out front when the door cracked open. Hesitant at first, and one side of a woman's face appeared in the opening in the door.

Her eyes flew wide, and she yanked the door open, dropping papers all over the floor to throw her arms around what Newt could only assume was her daughter.

Missing posters scattered over the doorway, pictures of a smiling girl looking nothing like the kid sobbing into her mother's arms. Newt stepped back, let them have this moment.

"Bethany," her mother whispered. "I've been so worried. Don't you dare do that again."

Beth moved away, wiping her face. "I'm sorry, mom. I'm so sorry."

The woman shook her head, but her eyes closed, she took a deep breath, and she wiped her eyes of tears. When they opened, she looked at Newt. "Did you bring her here?"

Newt nodded. "My name’s Newt. My friends and I found her on the street with a needle in her arm. I can recommend someone to help you find a rehab place if you want."

Beth's mother looked at her daughter, swinging an arm around her neck. "Beth, is this true? Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you, Beth. We're going to get you some help, alright? Thank you so much, sir. We’ve been so scared."

Newt gave her a warm smile. It was nice that Beth was going to get help instead of a punishment. That was one chance Beth was going to get that Newt didn’t have.

And she deserved it.

“Please, come in, let me make you and your friends some tea,” the woman said with a smile.

Newt gasped, glancing at the boys with a shake of his head. “Oh, no, no. That’s okay, ma’am. We should be going on our way, we were just dropping Beth off.”

”Surely you need some sort of reward for bringing her home,” Beth’s mother replied, stepping aside as if to gesture for Newt to come in.

Newt stepped back. “No, no. I mean it, we just wanted to help someone in need. I’ve been there, I couldn’t just leave her on the street. Make sure she gets help.”

The woman nodded. A tear dropped off of her face, as she pulled Newt into a quiet hug.

Newt squeezed her back, closing his eyes.

What he wouldn’t have given for his mother to be like this. What he wouldn’t give now for a hug from his own mother right now. There was nothing like that feeling of safety in someone else’s arms. That impossible warmness in your heart.

He almost felt like crying.

Beth’s mum pulled away, gave him a kiss on the cheek, thanked him, then brought Beth into the house and shut the door.

Newt made his way down the path to the fence, where Tommy was kicking at a pebble on the ground, and Minho was leaning against the wall.

Newt walked into Minho’s frame, hooking his chin over his shoulder, all the while checking his pockets for cigarettes.

Minho wrapped his arms around his stick figure body, while Thomas kicked his pebble into the road and put an arm around Newt’s hips.

It wasn’t the same as having his mum there. But it was the next best thing. And it was the closest thing he had to family.

Thomas kissed his head. Newt pulled his hands out of his pockets and held his hand, leaning his head against his chest.

“Hey,” Thomas said in a quiet voice. “Let’s forget the meeting today. We can go get take-out and sit in the park, just us. Yeah?”

Newt sighed into Thomas’s shirt. None of that mattered, not right now. All that mattered was the arms holding him, and how strongly he felt for the people they belonged to.

Newt ran a hand through his hair, shushing when Thomas started rambling about this fast food place a few blocks out of the city centre.

Thomas shut his mouth, and Newt reached out to hold Minho’s waist.

He just wanted to bask in this for a moment. In how he felt, in how he was felt for.

All he felt was belonging. He felt like he should be there. More than he’d felt like he belonged anywhere in his life.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, smiling to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hi hello here's a new chapter for y'all!  
> i have to admit i've been in a bit of a funk recently, so all i can say about this chapter was that i did my absolute best to pull it up to my standards. hopefully you enjoyed it anyway!  
> thank you for reading, it means so much to me!  
> Leave love :)


	25. Private Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:  
> -Smut but not very detailed ey ;)

Newt almost let out a shriek when the bathroom door clicked open. He was in the bath, and the bubbles had popped all too quickly. One of his hands went to cover his privates, while the other grabbed his collarbone as if that was the most embarrassing part of his body. It was all sudden and instinctual, and when Thomas stepped in with his hands over his face, he smirked. “Need my toothbrush.”

Newt’s mouth was still open, his breathing fast and his eyebrows furrowed. Thomas couldn’t see anything, so he smiled as he reached for the cup next to the sink. “I’ve seen it all before, Newtie, I’m only covering my eyes for your sake.”

Newt sat up, pulled the bubbles from the edge of the bath to where needed to be hidden. “Tommy, get out. Bath time is private time.”

Thomas giggled, holding out one arm like a zombie, to find Newt’s head. He did and pressed a kiss to a spot that was almost his lips. “Goodnight, baby. I’m off upstairs.”

Even though he couldn’t see it, Newt sent him a scowl. “You missed my lips.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow behind his palm. “Well, would you let me try again?”

Newt smirked, laying back down. “No. See you tomorrow.”

Thomas giggled, shaking his head. “So cruel.”

Newt settled back into his nice relaxing bath, pouring more bubble soap into the tub in case Minho decided to barge in too.

Shit, he’d been thinking before Thomas crashed his train of thought.

It was about Lizzy. Beth was Lizzy’s age when Newt did what he did. Looking at her was like looking at little Lizzy, clutching her mother, begging her not to kick Newt out. It hit hard seeing her on the street like that, all bloodied up and bruised. Knowing that’s what Lizzy saw when she saw her big brother. That sobbing failure was her role model.

He was going to find her. And his mother. Tomorrow. They were going to talk. Even if it led to nothing. Newt needed it, and maybe they did too. It was all he could do, the only closure he could have. He couldn’t afford to pay her back, and he couldn’t reverse time.

He just needed her in his arms one more time. Just one more.

When he got out of the bath, he smelt like vanilla. And the towel was soft. After so many years with scratchy towels and own brand soap, it felt like he’d been bathing in an alternate dimension. Not that he hadn’t showered here before, but it was still new.

All of it was.

Ruddy hell, he owed these boys his life.

He wrapped the warm towel - it had been on the radiator - around his stick figure body and dried himself off, before slipping into a pair of pyjama shorts and a t-shirt that he’d picked up from the closet that could be anybodys.

The apartment was warm when Newt stepped into the living room, drying his hair with his towel. Minho was around here somewhere but he wasn’t in the living room. Or the kitchen, as Newt found out when he flicked on the kettle and grabbed a mug from the cupboard.

He was about to get out a teabag, then he’d search for Minho, when a pair of arms wrapped around him from behind. A pair of lips pressed against his shoulder, and he held one of the hands on his waist as he dropped a teabag into his mug.

”Hey, Newt,” Minho whispered, setting his chin on the blond’s bony shoulder. Newt hummed at him, expectant, as he heard a tune startup on the other side of the apartment: a soft, melodic tune. Newt raised his eyebrow, frowning over his shoulder at the speakers spewing Damien Rice.

“What are you doing?” Newt asked, pouring boiling water into his mug of tea. Minho took the kettle from him, set it back in its spot, and turned Newt around to look at him.

”Thomas isn’t here tonight,” Minho said with a sweet smile. “I know you like to take things slow so I thought maybe to start out me and you could have some fun on our own.”

Newt frowned.

Minho stepped away from him, grabbed a slip of paper from the kitchen counter. “I know you worry about if Ben and the girls are alright with it so I got Ben to write a contract saying he doesn’t mind.”

It was true. Minho handed Newt the paper, and Newt unfolded it to see scribbles of handwriting reading _I, Ben Russell, hereby give permission for Newt to have sex with Minho_.

Newt almost laughed. Minho grabbed his waist again. “And I know you have some issues downstairs, so I bought some movies to watch if you want. Magic Mike, Brokeback Mountain, how does that sound? And I have like four playlists to get you in whatever mood you want; I thought I’d start with this one first since you seem like you’d be more into that than any of the others. And I’m wearing some hot undies that makes Thomas melt into the floorboards, I swear.”

Newt shook his head, “Min...”

Minho interrupted. “But don’t worry if it doesn’t work, baby. There’s a lot we can do without it, you know? No pressure.”

”Minho...”

Minho smiled. “What, not in the mood? I thought of that too, so I got some PG movies and microwave popcorn. We can cuddle on the couch, or in bed if you don’t mind watching on my laptop. Your pick if you don’t like my movies, we’ve got Netflix.”

Newt closed his eyes, half a smile on his face. “Min, I just got out of the bath. Would you calm down for a second?”

Minho nodded, smirking. “Sorry, baby. It’s been a while.”

Newt rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his tea. He swallowed, and Minho reached an arm around his waist. “ _Yobo_ , are you okay?”

His hand was warm against the bottom of his spine. Newt made a small smile, kissed him on the cheek. “I’m fine.”

Minho smiled at him. “So...?”

Newt tutted, sipping his tea. “Minho, love, would you let me relax for a second?”

”I’ll let you relax for hours, Newt,” Minho whispered in a seductive way, taking hold of one of Newt’s hands. “You can just sit back and chill while I take good care of you.”

Newt leant back against the counter, setting his tea down and crossing his arms over his chest. “Min, you’re coming off desperate.”

Minho let out a groan. “Newt. If you don’t want to, just say no, otherwise you’re getting my hopes up.”

Newt smirked at him, scratching one of the scars on his arm from injecting. “I mean, the work you’ve gone to is really sweet.”

Minho groaned again. Newt grinned, took his hand and brought him close, to touch lips to lips, chest to chest. They’d barely kissed when Minho pulled back, grabbed Newt around the legs and pulled him up into his arms.

Newt yelped, grabbing Minho’s neck, as the bloody reckless fool rushed towards the bedroom, and set a giggling Newt down on the edge of the bed. “Bloody hell, Minho, you’re not that desperate, are you?”

Minho straddled his lap, holding his neck and whimpering into his mouth like an injured animal. “It’s been days, ja gi.”

Newt chuckled, pushing him back to take his shirt off. Fuck, his chest put Newt’s to shame. Really. He was so hot and chiselled, Newt didn’t even want to take his clothes off anymore.

Minho kissed him again, once he’d tossed the shirt aside, but Newt pushed him off his lap, turning onto his front and crawling until he’d made it to the top of the bed.

He didn’t want to see Minho’s face. Minho had seen it all before, bathed him when he was in withdrawal, not to mention the time they all had sex, but this was different. Newt wasn’t high or buzzing on withdrawal symptoms. He was aware enough to see Minho’s face, his reaction, and it wasn’t something he could deal with.

Minho didn’t question the decision, at least not out loud, and waited patiently at the other end of the bed for Newt to pull his shirt over his head, then kick his pants off his ankles, with some help from Minho.

He climbed over Newt, held him close to his body with one hand on Newt’s heart, and kissed the back of his neck. Newt closed his eyes, buried his face in his pillows, taking deep long breaths to counter Minho’s fast ones.

Newt clung to the hand holding Minho up on the bed, staring at it as a reminder - this wasn’t Alby, it wasn’t George, it wasn’t fucking Marcus. This was Minho. He was safe. These were good hands, that loved him, if he dared say it. He didn’t have to worry about getting high after the whole thing, he didn’t have to worry about Alby being too rough with him. Minho was making this fun, and easy, and slow. Cause sex was never fun. It was a chore. And now it was Minho, nipping the side of his neck and asking “is this okay?” before doing anything new.

Newt clung to his fingers and squeezed at the sheets. Minho said nothing, his hair tickling Newt’s shoulder, but his lips wet and warm on the skin of his neck.

To be fair, Newt was quite good at playing quiet, holding in whines and biting the pillow to shut himself up. But Minho drew something out of him. He gasped and whimpered into the air, as Minho shushed into his ear.

He didn’t know what magnificent thing he’d done to deserve this. Maybe putting up with Alby for so long. But it was Minho, Minho loved him. If it took all of Alby’s bullshit to get to this moment, he’d do it all over again.

Minho pushed Newt’s hair out of his face, as Newt glanced up at him, seeing this face of adoration. This beautiful, godly man staring down at the rugged blond as if he was the Mona Lisa lying under him.

Newt squeezed his eyes shut. His palms were damp, his forehead dripping, and his spine contorting and twitching like it had a mind of its own. Minho’s hands held him like he might fall out of this dimension if he didn’t hold tight enough. Newt held his hair, the barely-there stubble on the back of his head, that helped hold Minho’s lips against his skin.

It was a crash like a wave, not exactly simultaneous, but close enough that Minho’s quiet groan turned into “I love you too” in enough time that Newt didn’t feel like stuffing the initial, breathy, “I love you” back down his throat.

Newt pressed his body into the mattress, not quite ready to let go of Minho’s hand yet. Minho pulled the hand from the bed, moving to lean on his elbow on the side of Newt that he wasn’t facing.

He smoothed his fingers over the buttons on Newt’s spine, poking invasively out of the pale skin of his back. Newt closed his eyes hard, trying to fight tears out of them. He felt so loved. So cared for. He’d never felt so secure in someone’s arms. He’d never felt okay with someone exploring the imperfections in his thin, bony body, of which there were too many to count.

But he let Minho do it because Minho wasn’t Alby, or George, or fucking Marcus. He was Minho.

And Tommy was Tommy. And Newt would let them in.

Minho touched his baby face, pulling hair out of the way and tucking it behind his ear. His nose nudged Newt’s cheekbone, as he pressed a kiss to his face, and whispered into his ear. “You okay?”

Minho wiped his wet eyes and asked again when Newt didn’t open his eyes. “Newt, you okay? I didn’t do anything, did I?”

Newt wiped his face, and opened his eyes, holding Minho’s hand with both his own.

Minho waited for words, but they wouldn’t come. He kissed Newt’s neck, and gently rolled him onto his back, letting go of his hands to hold his chest. Newt pulled the blankets up his body, watching Minho’s body look back at him like a judging eye.

Minho leant on his elbow, staring down at Newt with a look of concern. “What’s up?”

Newt turned his head to him, tearing up again as he pressed his forehead against Minho’s. “This is usually when I get high. I’ve never wanted to stick around and stay sober after sex. You’re the first.”

Minho made a small, tired smile, raising an eyebrow. “I’m honoured. Why are you crying?”

Newt kissed him, drawing a circle on the back of his hand, half laughing and half crying. “I’m really happy to have you, Min, you idiot. And you love me. Properly, not like the others.”

Minho smiled. “I do love you. Properly. You better hang onto that because I hate those words.”

Newt closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around Minho and holding tight onto him. “I want to find my family tomorrow. You and Tommy have to come, it’ll probably be the closest you’ll ever get to meeting my parents.”

Minho hugged him back, ignoring the flaming heat in the room. “I’d like that. You should meet my parents someday.”

Newt smirked, kissing his chin. “One thing at a time, love.”

"You're right," Minho whispered, scooching in and pressing his head against Newt's. "So, first of all, we're going to lay here for a while, then when we're ready, we'll go for round two."

Newt was almost dozing off already. Minho didn't complain though. He might have been joking. But he kissed Newt's head and squeezed him tight, and that seemed about good enough for now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so bloody long! been workin on some personal stuff for a while so it's been really hard to write. can't promise the next chapter'll be up that soon but feel super free to bug me if it's longer than a week.  
> thank u for reading! it means a lot that you're still stickin with this fic even when its taking ages to update. i'm doin my best, i swear.  
> hope you enjoyed this fluffy/smutty chapter!  
> leave love :)


	26. The One Ring

Holy fucking shit.

Thomas was always forgetting how unbelievably lucky he was to have these girls in his life, and it was moments like these that knocked the reminder back into his head.

He’d woken up with Brenda laying on his chest, breathing in and out and holding onto him like he meant the world to her. Her hair was in his face, but once he moved that, he couldn’t help smiling at how cute she looked sleeping soundly. Teresa was sitting up in bed, reading, orange light from the sunrise shimmering on her body where she hadn’t been able to reach the stripper glitter in the shower.

God, she was beautiful. Her shiny hair sitting on her shoulders, her blue eyes scanning her book. Those hands turning the pages. The curves of her hips, the way her t-shirt followed the crevices of her chest- oh, fuck, she was looking at him.

”My eyes are up here,” Teresa joked, with a half-serious sternness on her face. Thomas smirked, kissing Brenda’s head and reaching out to hold Teresa’s nimble fingers between his own.

”Thanks for last night,” he told her. “I’ve missed you so bad these past few weeks.”

Teresa gave him a smile, bookmarked her novel and set it on the bedside cabinet. “I think we both needed a quiet night together just as much as Bren did.”

Thomas ran his hands over Brenda’s soft arm, kissing her head. She was so upset to have lost her job. All Thomas could do was lie next to her and kiss her and try to take her mind off of it.

She looked so at peace asleep like this. Thomas often missed getting to wake up with these two in his arms. But when he was with them he missed Minho. That was the curse of open relationships. There was so much love it was often hard to know where to direct it and when.

Teresa lay herself down next to Thomas, pushed Brenda’s hair out of her face.

”Look at her,” she smirked. Thomas pressed his face against her hair. She smelt like strawberries.

”Brenda?” Teresa whispered.

”Don’t wake her,” Thomas shushed, soothing Brenda’s arm again.

Teresa didn’t listen, crawling towards her and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Brenda?” She sang. “Wake up, baby.”

Thomas felt her legs twitch, and her eyes fought to open, with a harsh groan. “Fuck off.”

Thomas laughed, pulling her up to kiss her mouth. Brenda frowned against his lips but kissed him back like she meant it. “Fuck you.”

Teresa ran her hand over her spine, lying next to Thomas, her breath hitting his neck. “Do you think Minho and Newt had some alone time last night?”

Thomas turned his head to her, kissed her chin. “I hope so. They could both do with some fun. I don’t know when Newt’s last time was but shit, Minho’s gone too long.”

Teresa gave him a grin as Brenda pulled his face towards her and kissed him again. Thomas held her neck, keeping her lips on his, and with his other hand held her waist. She hummed against his mouth, and let out a small sigh. Her skin was softer than Minho’s, more pleasant to hold between his hands.

Teresa pulled her hair out of her face and sat up to reach to kiss Brenda herself. Thomas lay back and kissed Teresa’s leg since it was so close to his face. Teresa pulled away from Brenda with a laugh. “Oh, really? Didn’t realise he was your type.”

Thomas wasn’t paying much attention, focused on his smokin’ hot girlfriends making out. He loved them with every fibre of his being, but they were snogging, while Brenda was all but sat on his chest, with orange light illuminating their pretty skin and Brenda was naked, for god’s sake. All he could think about was how selfish he wanted to be with them.

To be fair, Thomas didn’t have sex much. Not as much as the girls did without him, which he had to put up with because he wasn’t around to join in whenever they were getting steamy. Minho probably had more sex with Ben than Thomas, which was one thing that kind of sucked. It made Thomas feel just an incy bit inadequate. But he knew Minho loved him to pieces, so he wasn’t really jealous. He didn’t love Minho for his body, he loved him for his personality. No, he did kinda love him for his body, but his personality too.

Teresa complained when Thomas got up to take a shower. She always did, because it was a sign he was heading back downstairs.

Thomas stayed for breakfast, at least, and let Brenda wear his shirt, so the complaining was a minimum.

”We’re going to get matching t-shirts for Teresa’s hen-do,” she said, sitting beside Thomas and wrapping the hand that wasn’t holding a cup of coffee, around his waist. “I don’t know what they’re going to say yet, but they have to be Teresa’s-mom-friendly. Any ideas?”

Thomas let out a small laugh. “You’re planning the fake bachelorette party, already? We’re not even fake engaged yet.”

Brenda rolled her eyes, setting her chin on the palm of her hand. “So fake propose! C’mon, Tom, you know she can’t wait to start planning the wedding, and her mom’s gonna be on your ass until you start to make a move.”

Thomas glanced at the balcony, watching Teresa switch her pyjama shirt for one she took off the laundry line.

”Brenda, you just lost your job,” Thomas said, in a soft voice. The wound was still sore and Brenda’s eyes turned hostile. “We need money to pay for a wedding, especially one good enough for Tee’s parents. Ben can’t pitch in, Newt definitely can’t. I could probably get some help from Minho, but it’s us, Bren, I can’t ask the others to pay.”

Brenda crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll get a job. I’ll work in your damn library, whatever. Would you just stop stalling? It started getting boring years back.”

Thomas took a sip of her coffee, thinking it over while she changed the subject to whether Newt would like to join them for the bachelorette party, or stick with Thomas for his stag-do, or sit out altogether. Thomas didn’t care.

Eventually, he grabbed his stuff and left the apartment. He was eager to know how last night went for Minho and Newt, plus he wanted to talk about his new plan to “propose” to Teresa before making definite plans.

Minho had mentioned that he was making an effort to get Newt into bed, but he hadn’t heard any news of how his attempts had gone. Thomas couldn’t guess at this point.

He stuck his key in the apartment door and pushed it open, noticing the quiet. Good or bad sign?

He turned to the bedroom doorway, peeked in with a small smile.

They were awake. Minho held Newt’s waist, as the blond was settled on his chest, looking like he’d never been this comfortable in his entire life. Thomas smiled in at them, as Minho sent him a wink and continued whatever their conversation had been. Thomas didn’t listen, something about Minho’s car. Newt’s eyes were closed, so Thomas snuck up beside him, and interlaced his fingers between Minho’s, on Newt’s bare waist. Newt’s eyebrows furrowed half sleepily, and Thomas kissed the top of his spine.

”Morning...” Newt mumbled, turning and frowning at Thomas with half-lidded eyes. Thomas gave him a small kiss to the face, and backed off a bit, noting the frown.

”Good morning, baby, how are you?” He asked, to whoever wanted to answer.

Newt glanced at Minho, then back at Thomas. “Am I naked?”

Thomas smirked, then dropped it and nodded quietly. He pulled the covers up Newt’s legs and gave him a hearty smile. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice. You looked adorable all curled up like that.”

Minho kissed Newt’s head, then Thomas pecked his lips. Newt kept the blankets high on his chest, blinking quietly for a moment before reaching over Thomas to grab his box of cigarettes, sleepily pecking Thomas’s cheek on the way. Thomas smiled, watched him wordlessly as he pulled a stick out of the box and shoved it between his peachy lips.

Minho let out a sigh, closing his eyes as Thomas pulled a lighter from the bedside table and lit Newt’s cigarette. Newt gave him a small, emotionless nod and took a drag.

”Do you think you’ll ever quit that?” Minho asked as Thomas stared silently at the smoke pouring out of Newt’s lips. Smokers were his guilty pleasure. And Newt was naked in bed with his fiancé, smoking. Thomas might die a little bit.

Newt offered Thomas a drag from his cigarette, which he gratefully accepted. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Thomas took a drag into his lungs as Minho drew a circle on Newt’s collarbone. “I know you’re addicted to much worse than cigarettes but...they’re not good for you. And you smoke a lot.”

Thomas ignored Min’s disapproving look as he handed Newt his cigarette back, letting out smoke into the room. “Have you ever smoked?”

Minho tutted. “I smoked weed in college. There was never any tobacco in it.”

Newt closed his eyes as he took a drag, then held the cigarette out to Minho. “D’you want to try it?”

Thomas furrowed his eyebrows at Minho, who stared at the cigarette between Newt’s fingers.

Newt didn’t see it. Smoking was the lesser of many evils to him, he didn’t see the way Minho’s eyes scattered away from the smoky cylinder.

Thomas took the cigarette from him and shook his head. “Minho’s too good for rotten lungs, babe.”

Newt didn’t say anything, just watched Thomas take a drag from his cigarette then hand it back to him.

”So, how was last night?” Thomas asked. Minho gave him a wide grin, clutching Newt a little tighter.

”Well, I can’t speak for Newtie but that was probably one of the best nights I’ve ever had,” he smiled when Newt’s cheeks coloured pink, the hint of a smile on his lips. Minho’s gaze skipped to his fiancé. “I’ve never had the mid-sex ‘I love you’ before, you know. Thomas told me for the first time when he was all sad after his dad relapsed, and Ben let it slip when he was leaving for work one morning. It’s nice, though. Made things a lot more intense.”

Thomas grinned, rubbing Newt’s hip. “You said you love him?”

Newt sighed out smoke, burying his face in Thomas’s neck, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “He said it back.”

Thomas sent Minho a lovely smile.  Minho was good like that. He was the kind of boy that fell in love the way someone got addicted to drugs. It felt good. It felt so goddamn good until he realised he was trapped in a web of heartache and heartbreak and desperation. But he had good luck with love. So did Thomas.

The brunet brought his gaze back to Newt’s silky hair and ran his hands through it. It felt like not getting enough vitamins, and not brushing it enough, but Thomas didn’t care. Maybe it was faded piss yellow and unbelievably unkempt, but that was what Newt was. And to Thomas, those frazzled strands might as well be gold.

”Yeah, well, I was caught up in the moment,” Minho smirked, wearing half a blush. “It’s hard to focus on your words when you’ve got a hot blond losing his mind under you.”

Thomas smiled when Newt rolled his eyes. “Oh, well, then, I was distracted by the arm grabbing my chest like I was hanging off the edge of the bloody Titanic. Tommy, please let me know if you see a bruise forming in the next few days.”

Minho tutted. “You threw yourself onto your front, if I couldn’t see, I wanted to touch.”

Newt turned his head and looked at Thomas. “Well, Lord knows, you didn’t miss out on much.”

“Are you kidding me?” Thomas spluttered, earning a half-smile from Newt. “You drive me crazy.”

Newt scoffed and rolling his eyes, dabbed his cigarette out on a glass coaster on the bedside table. “Yeah, of course I do, and Minho’s taking a vow of celibacy. Face it, Tommy, I’m no match for Minho’s amazing abs and hot biceps.”

Thomas smiled at him. “You don’t have to be.”

Newt tried to hide his small smile. He shuffled to sit up, then pointed across the room to the closet. “Get us some underwear, would you, Tommy?”

“No,” Thomas smirked, sitting up and crossing his arms over his chest. Newt raised his eyebrows, a wide grin on his face.

”Oh, it’s like that, is it?” He grabbed his half of the bedsheet and pulled it over himself, rolling it around him like a cocoon for a caterpillar. He shuffled to the edge of the bed, ignoring that he was leaving Minho bare, but to be fair, Minho ignored it too. Thomas had him memorised by now, but he still leant his head against his chest and watched up at Newt.

Newt hopped across the room to the clothes drawers and pulled the top one open for a pair of boxers or something. He chose some and let the blanket sit on his shoulders as he pulled them on with both hands. Minho barely had to kick the blanket before it slipped down Newt’s back. It got to the floor before Newt had even pulled his underwear all the way up his backside. He yanked them up, his cheeks - the ones on his face - turning pale rose.

He sort of stood there facing away from them like he’d be unveiling some huge secret if he turned towards them.

The boys were quiet, watching Newt’s brain stirring. Newt didn’t move for a moment, but then all at once he twisted himself around and looked at the two on the bed. There was barely a chance to look at him before he clutched a corner of the blanket and yanked it up and over his body.

”Look, I...” He looked at the floor. “I...I thought I was ready to be open with you and let you in for real but I’m not, I’m sorry.”

Thomas frowned, sat up. “Newt, are you okay?”

Newt sat on the edge of the bed, his back to the boys and his hands pressing into his face. “I’m sorry.”

Thomas hurried to his side, pressed a hand against his waist, as Minho pulled his wrist gently to get his arm down from his face. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Newt wiped his eyes and set his head on Thomas’s shoulder. “Last night it felt like you loving me was enough to make me throw out all my nervousness but now I’m just scared I’ll give you a reason to change your mind about me.”

Thomas sent a frown Minho’s way. “What, by letting us see you naked?”

Newt wiped his eyes again. “It’s not just that, Tommy. My body is the way it is because of all the shit that I’ve gone through. I’m Skeletor’s little brother because I spent years of my life shooting up bloody heroin. I’m covered in scars and bruises because I used to sell myself for drugs. And saying it, you feel like you can deal with it. But seeing it’s different. It’s not some story, it’s my life, and by loving me you’re living it with me and if it gets too real you’ll leave me and I can’t-“

He stopped himself because Minho pulled his engagement ring off his finger.

Thomas furrowed his eyebrows. Wait, what?

Minho wiped a tear off of Newt’s cheekbone, then took one of his hands and pressed the ring down his bony finger. “With all due respect, Newt, you’re an idiot. You think we’re scared of real?”

Newt took the metal circle off his hand, sniffing. “I met you, like, a month ago, I’m not getting engaged to you, Minho.”

Minho rolled his eyes, screwing the ring back onto Newt’s hand. “Oh, hun, if I was asking, you’d know. I just want you to have this. Last night I said I love you and now I’m saying trust me, I love you. Thomas and I know full well what you’ve gone through. I changed out your sick buckets when you were tearing your insides out in withdrawal. Thomas’s girlfriend beat up Gally because you were bribing him with sex to get heroin. This is real to us. It’s always been real. You letting us drool over your beautiful body isn’t going to make this any more serious than it’s ever been.”

Newt closed his eyes, head down. He tiptoed his hand to the ring on his finger and felt it, before looking up at Thomas. “If he just called me beautiful, I’m engraving his name on this bloody ring and never taking it off.”

Thomas giggled, pressing his forehead against Newt’s and smiling against him. “Beautiful doesn’t cut it, baby.”

Newt smirked when Thomas kissed him. “Don’t push it.”

Thomas smiled, weighing his face against Newt’s to kiss him, holding his neck to keep him steady. Newt kissed him back silently, his eyes squeezed shut and his hands around Thomas’s waist, while Minho tugged gently at the blanket. Slow enough that Newt could stop him anytime, but fast enough that after a few seconds, Thomas lowered his hands from Newt’s neck to his chest and they were poking out from under the blanket.

Thomas pulled away. He needed to know that Newt was okay with this happening.

He seemed it, because the moment Thomas left his lips, Newt brought them back to him. He was a breathless kisser. Like it was a rushed goodbye before a long day at work and he was trying to squeeze in as much making out as was physically possible. His lungs went desperate quick but when he pulled back it was only for a moment.

Minho left the bed cover bunched behind Newt’s back and kissed his cheek to get his attention.

Thomas kissed his shoulder when Newt contemplated his hands on his lap for a second.

It was quiet, so Thomas wrapped an arm around Newt’s bony spine, which made the blond flinch. He leant into Newt and kissed the remnants of a thick indent of a scar on the front of his shoulder. Newt watched him silently, his face weary but his head nodding quietly. Thomas leant his forehead against Newt’s shoulder and pressed quiet kisses to the bones, bruises, cuts. Thomas would have happily gotten on his knees and kissed something else, but Minho shook his head, so he pulled back, and sat up beside Newt.

The blond was quiet. Minho said nothing. Thomas leant his head on Newt’s shoulder and said wearily, “Um...Speaking of engagement. Brenda wants me to propose to Teresa. You know, for her mother’s sake.”

Newt looked up at him, quiet, while Minho made a smile. Thomas cleared his throat. “I mean, it’s not super urgent so I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”

Newt looked down at the ring on his finger. “No. You should. It’s Teresa, she’s been waiting long enough.”

Thomas raised his eyebrows, surprised. It didn’t even look like it took much contemplation from Newt. Maybe it was last night, or maybe it was the ring, but whatever it was, Thomas liked it. He smiled, held Newt’s hand.

”The girls want to take me to the club to see if Brenda can get her job back. You can come if you want, we can try to convince Gally to give you that job back.”

Newt smiled at him and shook his head. “I’d love to but I’m going to look for Lizzy today, see where she lives. I want to find my family.”

”You should go with Thomas,” Minho said with a shake of his head. “Brenda’s uncle Jorge knows how to find people. I’ll call him, if he hasn’t found her by tonight, we can do our own search.”

Newt smiled again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long I can't even remember what I'm supposed to say here lmao. I'm so sorry.  
> This is getting harder and harder to write the further on it goes, purely because of some personal issues I'm dealing with that make it really tough to write about certain things. I'm okay, I'm all good, there's nothing to worry about, it's just personal shit y'know?  
> What I'm trying to say, I can't say when the next chapter'll be up. I mean, I'm not gonna write this if its gonna mess with me irl yknow. I'm still gonna write this, it's just that it might take a while between chapters - hopefully not this long - so i can write when I feel inspired and more okay with it. If I force myself to write it's a chore and it's hard, and this is for fun! So I'll update when I can. Thanks for stickin with me.  
> Thanks for reading this chapter, I hope you like it. :)


	27. I Don't Dance

Newt didn’t even take off the ring to shower. The circle slipped around his finger, especially when it got soapy, but he didn’t care. The suds could rash his skin inside out for all he cared right now.

A million years ago, before he met Thomas and Minho, he didn’t know love well enough to know it could be like this. He knew the taste of Alby’s sweat, the feeling of George’s embrace, the terrified fear of the both of them. The grasps of a thousand strangers telling him his body was worth twenty, twenty-five dollars worth of dope. The sound of sirens sending panic through him, the nervous looks caused by unexplained black eyes, the numb grief of losing friends to the same mistakes he was making.

But being with these two made it all seem worth it, worth doing it all again.

Newt’s body wasn’t any less horrific now that the boys had made him feel like he was made of rose petals and sugarcane.

He was far from happy with his body now; he was barely okay with it. But now that he’d had a proper look, maybe his ribs didn’t jut out the way he thought they did. And even though he hated it, maybe someone had a thing for legs so skinny the bones beneath the skin looked sharp. And Minho liked to hold his hands, so maybe having twigs for fingers wasn’t going to ruin his life completely.

He wasted no time yanking a pair of cargo shorts and a t-shirt over his damp skin, knowing the girls would be there any minute to get going. Still, he didn't feel rushed. He left the bathroom wringing his straw hair out with a towel and cursing the knots he had to rake through. Not even conditioner could fix it by now.

But it didn't matter because Thomas gave him a loving grin when he got out of the shower and sat beside the brunet on the couch. Thomas’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, eating an early lunch of spaghetti-o’s from a bowl sitting in his lap. Minho was in the kitchen on his laptop, making playlists for work or something, judging by the occasional burst of beat-heavy music. It was loud enough to temporarily drown out the ridiculous yank sitcom on the TV, that Thomas was barely watching. God, Newt missed English TV.

Newt sat against Thomas’s side, looking at the bedroom door, wide open and showing the beautiful scene of the empty, unmade bed that had felt like the sands of paradise last night with Minho. The sun cascaded in through the window, lighting Thomas’s side of the bed and the wrinkles on the pillowcase.

It was a scene that gave Newt that feeling. Like a primal urge to paint. Desperately, he needed to paint a lovely scene such as that.

Newt let out a sigh, and Thomas gave him a grin against the back of his head. “Whatchya staring at?”

Newt didn’t answer. He turned to face Thomas and touched the hand with his lovely new piece of jewellery, to his wrist. “I want to go to art school.”

Thomas paused, then shut off the TV. “No problem.”

Newt took in a deep breath. “And I want to find Lizzy and my parents. I wanna show them who I am now. But you knew that one.”

Thomas gave him a wry smile. “Anything else you want?”

Newt fiddled with the ring on his finger. He wanted a lot of things, but now he was on the spot his mind went blank.

”I...” he sniffed. “I want to gain weight. And I...I want to wake up next to you two every morning.”

Thomas smiled, ran a hand over his back. Newt punished himself mentally for thinking about the spikes of his spine in his back, like a reptile creature. Something inhuman. He was getting better. He shouldn't be thinking about himself that way.

Thomas must have noticed Newt bite his lip because he set his empty bowl of pasta on the coffee table and pressed both hands to Newt’s back.

”Red, yellow, green,” he said in a chirpy voice. Newt turned to him, frowning as he held Thomas’s wrist.

”Red.” He didn’t leave much wiggle room for Thomas so the brunet pulled back. Thomas touched his hand to the spot just outside Newt’s heart, which was quietly beating faster than usual because Tommy was all over him.

He smoothed a thumb over Newt’s skin, in a sort of casual, curious way.

”Red,” Newt repeated, with half a smirk. Thomas pulled back, face scrunched from confusion at Newt’s smirk. “Get me in bed before you get all touchy-feely, Tommy.”

Thomas rolled his eyes at him, stopping to grin before pressing a kiss to Newt's mouth. Newt giggled, ignoring an up-tempo intro to a song blaring from Minho's laptop as he laughed out, "That's green."

Thomas laughed and pulled back to move Newt's damp hair out of his face. Newt lunged forward to finish the kiss Thomas started, but it was just a peck because the door swung open.

The boys’ heads all shot to the doorway, and Newt jumped ever-so-slightly, for just a moment remembering the way Alby used to burst in on him when he was angry.

Minho stood up, crossed his arms as he walked over to the boy. “Who gave you a key- Who gave Ben a key?”

Newt snapped out of it and watched up at Ben, his hands juggling a set of keys Newt hadn’t seen. He was wearing his uniform from work, dirtied by car oil, and hanging from his wrist was a plastic bag nobody thought to question yet.

”I thought we agreed you don’t get a key to the apartment because of last time you were in here without supervision,” Minho said with a mock frustration. Newt could tell by his soft eyes that he was happy to see Ben. “Where did you get the keys?”

Ben set the bag down on the coffee table and dropped the keys there too, so his hands were free to pull Minho into an intimate embrace. Hands placed on Minho’s hips, Minho was putty to him. “Not important. How are you? How was last night?”

Newt burnt red. Minho smirked but didn’t answer. “So, go on, what are you doing here?”

Newt exchanged a look with Thomas when Ben shoved his hands in the back pockets of Minho’s Nike joggers. Should they be watching this? Thomas’s face didn’t answer his question.

And Ben didn't answer Minho's. "What, you're not glad to see me after so long? Awfully rude of you, especially since I've brought your favourite food, and I'm willing to make you lunch for the small fee of you helping me learn a few moves to impress the new guy at work."

Minho wrapped his arms around Ben's neck, kissed him, and Newt averted his gaze. He definitely should not be watching this.

"They're waiting by the car," Thomas said with a small smile, looking up from his phone, which he'd been staring at. Newt made a matching smile. Thomas slipped his fingers around Newt's slender hand and helped him up, began towards the door. A thoughtless gesture but Newt grinned at their fingers interlocked. Newt followed him, head down, lips curved, and didn't even look up until Thomas pressed the button for the ground floor on the elevator wall.

They were silent for a moment before Newt looked down at his hand; ring of platinum shining in the yellow elevator light, clutched by the tender but tough hand who's arm led up to the man he could honestly say had helped to save his life, and he had to kiss him. Just a second, just a little peck to the lips. It was an urge like the urge to shoot-up.

Thomas was surprised, but his mouth grew to a grin and he squeezed Newt's hand. "What was that for?"

Newt let out a sigh. A month ago, he'd have been shoved off of his boyfriend for a kiss like that, with a groaning, "Newt, I'm busy."

He wouldn't be holding his boyfriend's hand, he wouldn't be in the elevator of an apartment complex on his way to try to help his friend, and maybe himself, get their jobs back.

Really, if it was Alby, he wouldn't have needed to kiss him.

"I," Newt began, then stopped, then began again as he felt the thud of the elevator hitting the ground floor, and knew he couldn't leave anything unsaid. "I want to paint you. Would you let me do that? You and Minho? Or you and Teresa, it could be an engagement present. Or a wedding gift."

Thomas's eyebrows furrowed, a huge smile on his face. "You want to paint me? Why on God's green Earth do you want to do that?"

"Because I love you," Newt said with a sort of smug feeling in his chest. He loved Minho, and he loved Tommy, and he wasn't scared anymore. Even though he could be, he didn't have to be anymore.

Thomas kissed him again, whispered that he loved him too, then hurried out of the elevator with the bouncing attitude of a six-year-old that had heard an ice cream truck. Newt followed him - he didn't have much choice - and tried desperately to hide a grin when Thomas let go of his hand and sped towards Teresa, kissed her on the lips and told her he loved  _her_ too.

"Oh, yeah?" Brenda said with her arms crossed. She didn't look like she was in the mood for Thomas's blind excitement. "Why don't you marry her then?"

Newt's mouth fell into a frown that might have been his resting face. Teresa's smile dropped too; she nudged Brenda with her elbow and rolled her eyes, delving into an explanation of her grouchiness to Thomas, who had gone from excited child to grouchy old man in a single moment. Apparently, the girls had had a brief argument about who they were going to let pay for the wedding and who they would not accept money from. Brenda said Ben and Newt were blacklisted from donating a single buck, but Teresa had insisted they'd cross that bridge when they got to it. Then Brenda got cranky because she was tired of waiting.

Newt slipped his ring off of his finger and shoved it in the back pocket of his shorts. Now wasn't the time to be flaunting his new accessory.

Brenda opened her mouth and began to say something that sounded like a footnote to the argument, but Teresa shushed her and opened the car door. Brenda reluctantly got in.

Thomas got in the driver's seat, so Brenda and Newt got in the back. Teresa strapped herself into the front seat and said in a quiet voice to Thomas, as if she didn't want Brenda to hear, "Mom called again this morning."

Thomas revved the car and worked on pulling out of his parking spot. "Jesus, has she named our kids yet?"

Teresa gave him a weak laugh. "Not just yet. Fuck, you should have heard her, Tom. It's like she gets more insufferable every day."

Thomas forced a smile and stretched an arm over her shoulders. Newt liked that.

Brenda let out a sigh and called to the front seat. “I’m not sorry. But I don’t want to argue with you.”

Teresa reached over to squeeze her hand and said nothing more about it. Newt liked that, too.

The car pulled into a spot outside the club five minutes later. Newt rushed a cigarette, then quietly followed the gang into the club. It wasn’t open at this hour, but a few of the dancers were rehearsing on the stage, walking each other through steps. Teresa scraped her hair into a ponytail and smiled politely at her colleagues, while Thomas shouted for Gally. Newt searched the rafters and saw nothing, but someone was messing with the lights, so he was here.

Thomas shouted again and the lights stopped flickering. A moment later, Gally emerged from the door Newt had named after him. There were cuts on his nose, and bruises where Brenda’s fist had found their target, and Newt tried not to look at them as Gally searched the room for the source of the voice. When he found it, he scowled. “You’re barred, Brandy, get out.”

Newt threw his gaze towards the poster that should have Brenda’s sexy silhouette posing, with her stripper name, Brandy, in large letters above her head. It was gone. Newt wasn’t surprised. He also wasn’t all that surprised to hear Gally use the name. Did he learn any of his employees’ names? Newt only knew he knew Minho’s name because he didn’t use a fake name for his job.

Brenda crossed her arms, and Thomas touched her shoulder as a silent message to stay composed. She huffed. “I need my job back.”

Gally scoffed, his face all arrogant. “Look at my face, bitch. You really think you’re working for me again?”

Thomas glared at him at the word 'bitch'.

Newt let out a sigh, frowning at the glossy wooden tiles of the club floor. “Gally, she was only protecting me.”

Gally laughed like a hyena about to pounce on his prey. “What, do you think you’re getting your job back too, Kyle? I know dope whacks your brain up but I thought you were less deluded than that.”

Newt growled, rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to hire me again, Gally. But you need Brenda, she’s a bloody amazing dancer.”

“Yeah,” Thomas added, checking with Brenda that she was alright with them fighting this fight for her. She just stood with her arms crossed and her chest all jutted out. Maybe she was trying to make a point. Newt looked to Teresa, who might have been a bit too quiet. Maybe she was trying not to draw attention to herself. Gally was a shithead, maybe she didn’t want to get on his wrong side. Thomas continued, “Brenda’s one of the best you have. People come in just to see her. Trust me. I’ve sat in here every weekend for years.”

Gally rolled his eyes, turned to the door heading upstairs. “I’m sure we’ll do fine without her. Kyle, don’t screw the doorman on your way out.”

Newt scowled at him. Bloody arsehole.

Brenda hurried after Gally, talking more at him than with him, before the door swung closed, and Thomas and Newt were left standing in the middle of the floor, while Teresa hung back with a frown.

Newt didn’t say anything. He was painfully aware that Thomas knew that last time they’d been here, Newt had been turning tricks for heroin.

Why did it always have to be like this? Why did there always have to be dark clouds over every good thing in Newt’s life? He should have known it was too good to be true.

Thomas pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, then said, “Stay here.”

Newt obliged and watched Thomas head to the door before he turned to Teresa. If nothing else, to take his mind off of the dab of powder he’d spotted under Gally’s nose. Newt had never been one for cocaine. He’d taken it, but it wasn’t one of those that made his life change colour the way heroin had cast dark grey paint splattered onto an orange sunset.

He heard bickering on the rafters, but he couldn’t make out the words. And in any case, Teresa was dragging a chair across the floor with an awful screech so she could sit and look at the stage while she waited.

Newt copied her. But he wasn’t really watching the stage. Girls in frilly mini-skirts weren’t so much his style. Besides, his mind was elsewhere.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring, staring down at it. Admittedly, he was beyond excited about having this ring. But he knew it wasn’t really his. It belonged to Minho, a momentum of the love those two felt for each other. To claim that as his own was almost as bad as Thomas’s hesitance to propose to Teresa. Newt looked up at the brunette and slipped the ring back into his pocket. “What will I be to you when you and Tommy get married?”

Teresa turned to face him, a half smile on her lips. “Wife-in-law?”

Newt smiled at her. She was beautiful, in a way Newt didn’t quite comprehend. Not in the way Tommy did, at least.

Teresa sighed suddenly. “Newt, do you think Tom will propose to me, ever?”

Newt nodded rapidly. “Yes. Yeah, he will. That’s a fact.”

”Thanks,” Teresa grinned. “You know, it’s been so long. I mean, it’s more my mom who wants it to happen but I’m sick of waiting. My mom expects me to be married and have kids by the time I’m thirty.” She paused. “Do you want kids?”

Newt bit his lip. “Not really. I mean, I’m twenty-two, and I’ve spent the last eight years dealing with addiction. I haven’t really had the time to think about it.”

Teresa smirked and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “So think about it.”

Newt chuckled and began to say, “Oh, I don’t know, Teresa-,” when Gally’s door swung open and the man himself walked out, arms crossed.

”Girls, make room in that routine for Brenda,” he said at the stage, before eyeing Teresa with a cruel glare. “This is coming out of your pay-check, Agnes.”

Teresa swallowed and stood up when Brenda followed Gally into the room with a half-frown. Teresa kissed her, then took her towards the stage and began to move the girls around to make room for her girlfriend.

Thomas emerged and sent Newt a smile, stuffing his hands in his back pockets.

Gally zeroed in on Newt and said in a dismissive tone. “Dante, teach Newt the routine.”

Thomas’s smile dropped to the ground. Newt wasn’t a great dancer, in all honesty, but he didn’t get why Thomas had suddenly changed his mind about the whole endeavour. It could be fun. And with Minho as his mentor, he might even be good.

Dante hopped off the side of the stage, where he’d been sitting, watching the girls practise. Newt pretended not to be excited. He had boyfriends, after all! But Dante was hot and was about to teach him how to dance. He had to hide a smirk from Thomas.

Thomas, who had stopped being okay with this the moment it had been announced. “That wasn’t the deal, Gally.”

Dante gave Newt a vacant smile and took his hand, to lead him over to one of the chairs he and Teresa had been sitting in earlier. Newt would be lying if he didn't say he got the shivers up his arm when Dante touched him. Maybe Thomas was jealous, that was why he was so against this. It took Newt a moment, once Dante had sat him in the chair and began to move around him, for Newt to realise that by 'the routine' Gally meant lap-dancing. Newt would be fine stumbling about the stage and calling it “dancing” but there was something that twisted inside him when he thought about grinding against strangers every Saturday night.

Newt frowned. He really hoped this wasn't the deal after all. He stood up, shook his head at Dante. "Sorry. Um. I don't dance."

He got it now. Thomas gave him an apologetic look. Gally rolled his eyes at him. "What, you only do sexy things when someone's dangling a baggy in front of your face, is that it? Grow a spine, Kyle. You dance, or you and Brandy don't get your jobs back."

Fucking hell. Newt could do it. Maybe. For Brenda.

Thomas answered for him, with a stern, final, "No. He's not doing that. C'mon, Bren, you can work in the library."

Brenda's face fell, all the more visible from the glaring stage lights. "What? Why?"

Newt stepped towards Thomas, shaking his head. "Tommy, it's alright, I can-,"

"No." The discussion was over. It wasn't happening. Newt frowned and tried to convey an apology to Brenda without having to say it.

Gally didn’t protest. He just crossed his arms over his chest and nodded once. “Good riddance to you.”

Brenda joined them on the floor, and Thomas took her hand, and Newt’s, and walked them out the door, with a small yell of Teresa's name. She looked up but didn't follow just yet.

They got out the door into the bright midday, and Brenda turned to her boyfriend. She yanked her arm out from Thomas’s, rolled up her sleeves with a scowl. “What the fuck is written on that stick up your ass? I had my job back and you changed your mind about it? Do you mind explaining your logic there, Tom?”

Thomas looked at Newt, who sent his gaze floorward. He knew this was his fault, even if Thomas had made the choice for him.

Finally, Thomas turned back to Brenda. “He was going to make Newt lap-dance.”

”I could have done that,” Newt said in a small voice, the same moment Brenda said fiercely, “Oh because that makes total sense.”

Thomas let out a stifled sigh and started back towards the car. “You walked in on Newt and Gally, didn’t you? He has a history.” Then, to Newt, “I won’t let you do it again.”

Newt chewed his lip. In a way, he was grateful. But this cost Brenda her job. He could suck it up for a while to let Brenda do the job she loved.

Thomas saw Newt open his mouth and stopped, unlocking the car. “I said no.”

Newt just nodded. Thomas sighed, frustrated, and popped the driver’s seat door open. Brenda and Newt got in the back.

"How are we going to pay for a wedding now?" Brenda asked. Thomas looked at her. He looked too strung out to be okay with what she'd just said. Newt wanted to hold his hand again, but didn't. Truth be told, he'd rather everyone forget he was even here now. It was his fault Brenda couldn't get her job back, and guilt chewed holes in his stomach.

"We'll have a small wedding," Thomas said finally, shrugging in a way that was not at all nonchalant but was trying hard to be. "As long as Teresa's mom sees a piece of paper signed, we'll be dandy, alright, Brenda, so would you just let it go?"

The car went quiet. Newt sunk into the seat, eyeing the outline of his box of cigarettes in his pocket. He wondered if he could get away with sneaking one or if that ordeal would bring too much attention to him and suddenly they'd remember it was his fault.

Brenda held her biceps as if she'd gone cold, and she bit the inside of her lip, looking down at her lap. After a moment, she said, "It was so easy for Minho."

"What?" Thomas asked, turning full-body to her as best he could in the car seat. Brenda shrugged. She looked defeated. She'd been tricked into admitting how she felt.

"Tee doesn't mind," Brenda said, looking up at her boyfriend. "But it was so easy for you to propose to Minho. You chose to live with Minho over us so easily it had me reeling for days. I get that you've been together longer, Thomas, but it's hard knowing you'd rather be with someone else than us."

Newt looked to Thomas, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Was this what it was like, to live in this kind of life? Feeling rejection all the time? Or was it Newt's fault he'd taken Thomas's attention from the girls?

Thomas shook his head, clambering over the seats to reach Brenda in the backseat, and wrapped his arms tight around her. Newt rolled the window open and pulled a cigarette out of his box, pretending not to eavesdrop. "Baby."

Newt liked the way Thomas said 'baby'. He said it like he meant it, and like it meant more than a pet name. Like a promise.

"Baby. It's not like that," Thomas whispered into her hair, which got mildly obscured by the car filling with smoke. "I love you so much, Bren. You're right, I've been hesitating, but that doesn't mean I want to be with you any less. I'm going to propose tonight. And maybe we can move in together soon. I want that as much as you do."

The two of them paused, sent their gazes toward Newt, who's eyebrows had perked up at the words 'move in together'. Was Thomas moving in with them? As in, moving out of the apartment? They knew that Newt was shaken by the news, but he just took another drag from his cigarette. It's not like that meant they were going to break-up.

Newt handed Thomas the cigarette. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya folks i accidentally posted this chapter without spell-checkin lmao however, its all checked now so I hope you enjoyed it! thank you for reading!  
> Leave love :)


	28. Nosebleed

“And what did you say?” Ben asked, handing Minho a dripping plate he’d just washed for his boyfriend to dry and put away in one of the drawers. Minho held the dish in one hand and wiped it with a cloth in the other, with a small smile on his face.

”Well, I told him I loved him too,” he said, before opening a cabinet under the counter and stuffing the plate in where it would fit.

Ben grinned at him, ignoring his soaking wet hands to pull Minho closer by his waist, to share a short kiss. “And what did he say?”

Minho kissed him again, then picked a dish off the drying rack to pat down. “He didn’t have to say anything, Benny.”

Ben dove his hands back into the sink to fish out a fork that had sunk to the bottom of the basin. “God, Min. I know you said Newt was off-limits, but you can’t deny me a guy like that. I think I love him too.”

Minho might have been a little more annoyed by this if he didn’t know Ben was joking. Instead, he dried off the fork and poked it softly into Ben’s arm. “Hands-off, Benjamin. That boy’s mine.”

Ben smirked, pulling off his marigolds and setting them on the side of the sink. With a sigh, he sat on the counter. “I’m knocked out.”

Minho rolled his eyes at him, wetting his hands to pull the plug from the sink. He dried them off and pressed in close to him all at once. “I thought you wanted to learn to dance?”

Ben tutted, breathlessly wheezed, “Not today, babe.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, snaking his arms around Ben’s waist and holding him. “How long’s it been since you went to the gym, babe, you cannot be tired out from doing dishes.”

Ben let out a warm breath against his face and squeezed him. “Ah, you know how I am with manual labour, Min.”

“You’re a mechanic.” Minho pressed a kiss to his face, then pulled him off the counter to bring him to the couch.

Ben collapsed onto the comfy cushions, and Minho smirked and sat against him, reaching for his laptop. Ben turned the TV on.

They didn’t really speak for a while, but they didn’t have to. Ben had an arm around his shoulders, and Minho had called dibs on one side of Ben’s figure, scrolling through his laptop.

The next words either of them heard from each other was Minho answering his mobile, maybe ten minutes later. “Hey, Jorge.”

Ben lit up and pushed Minho off of him. “Jorge! Hey, man!”

Minho passed the message on. Jorge let out a gruff laugh, and Minho could hear shuffling on his end of the call. “Tell him I say ‘hi’. And tell your friend I’ve found his parents. Is he a new addition to your family, Minho? I gotta admit, I lost track at Ben.”

Minho let his mouth fall open and lent forward. He pushed the laptop off his thighs and rested his elbows on his knees. "You found Lizzy already?"

"Hey, I asked you a question, hermano," Jorge replied. "I don't have to buy a wedding present for this new guy, do I?"

Minho smirked, sent Ben a grin. "No, it's alright, man, he's Thomas and I's new beau."

Jorge let out a breath that Minho thought was a joke at first but really didn't appear to be. "Thank god. You're running me out of house and home as it is."

Minho tutted, rolling his eyes. "So you found his sister?"

"His sister?" Jorge repeated, with an accusing tone in his voice. "You said family. I spent all morning trying to find his dad."

Minho's face fell. "But you found Lizzy, too?"

"Course I did," came the voice from the other side. "When have you ever known me to half-ass a job? I even found the kennel they take their dog to when they visit their hometown of London, England."

Minho jumped to his feet. He had to tell Newt. "Can you send me an address? Thanks, Jorge, I owe you one."

"Yeah, you do," Jorge answered, and there was more shuffling on his end of the phone. "For now, tell Bren I love her, would ya? And tell her to call more."

Minho didn't even say goodbye before hanging up, which admittedly, was awfully rude of him, but he was tingling with adrenaline. He could run to find Newt and bring him home to show him that he'd found Lizzy, but he called him instead. Ben got up and sent Minho an air kiss as he locked himself in the bathroom. Minho tapped his foot to the ringing tone from his phone. No answer.

He tried Thomas's phone, and Teresa picked up. "He's driving, what's up, Min?"

Minho clamped down on his lip. Despite his personal rule not to get excited about anything, he couldn't help it. "Put Newt on the phone."

"What, why?" Teresa asked, but then he heard the muffled conversation of Teresa telling Thomas  _"He said put Newt on the phone"_ and Thomas replying  _"So put him on."_ The sounds of the phone being batted from someone to someone else, Newt going  _"Me?"_ then Newt again, "Minho?"

Minho pushed his mouth into neutral with one of his hands. "Jorge found Lizzy. I've got an address, I'll drive, first thing tomorrow."

Newt was quiet for a moment. Too quiet, for too long a moment, and Minho wondered if maybe he'd changed his mind about the whole thing, and his excitement dropped to the floor. But then, "You found Lizzy?"

"Are you happy about that?" Minho asked, suddenly unsure.

Newt was quiet again, but then Minho heard,  _"Tommy, could you drop me at the next bus stop? I need to get home."_ Minho smiled and sat back on the couch. "I'm on my way," Newt said into the phone, then the line went dead.

Minho sniffed and tossed his phone onto the couch. He was dead excited to meet Newt's sister. And he was dead excited that Newt would get to meet her after all this time too. He wondered what Newt would tell his family about Thomas and Minho, and who they were to each other, but then pushed the thought out of his mind, because that wasn't the most important thing Newt would want to tell his family, and it was selfish to think it was. Either way, nerves and excitement spread throughout Minho's chest. He thought to get it all out while no one was watching - maybe allow himself one big grin while nobody was around - but the door to the bathroom opened, and Ben climbed over the back of the couch to press a kiss to Minho's temple. Minho turned to give him a smile, but it disappeared.

"Ben, your nose is bleeding." Technically, it _had been_ bleeding, past tense. There were dark trails of dried blood where Ben had clearly wiped at it with a tissue or a towel or something of the sort.

Ben threw a hand up to cover the lower part of his face. "Oh. It's nothing. I bumped into the door, must have set something off."

Minho yanked Ben's arm down to analyse his mouth and nose. "Don't bullshit me, Ben, why are you bleeding?"

He stared at it, eyebrows furrowed, pushing Ben's head back to see where it had all come from. Ben pushed against him and swatted his arms away. "Minho, I'm fine, I just hit it against something. Min, get off me."

Minho pulled away, a sort of misdirected anger in him. Why was Ben lying to him? Worse than that, why was Ben bleeding? He had health that put Minho's to shame, and now he had a nosebleed? It didn't add up.

Ben stood up, suddenly annoyed and frustrated. "Look, I'm going to go. Tell Newt I'm happy for him, alright?"

This was far from the first time Minho and Ben had argued; if this was an argument. And this would not be the last time Ben stormed out on him. So Minho already knew what to do. Ben slammed the door after himself, so Minho locked up, turned his speakers up high and worked on routines for work. That was his therapy. Dancing until his brains couldn't think of anything but the next move and who would look good doing this step and who could lift who for this part.

He was still dancing when Newt got back, but he soon stopped.

To say Newt threw himself at Minho was a big fat lie. He didn't throw himself at Minho, he slingshotted himself onto him, and tackled him to the ground until he could find Minho's mouth with his soft pink lips. Minho panicked - who wouldn't? - and prepared to throw punches until he realised he most definitely knew that gold mop of hair. He giggled and tugged Newt's hips closer to him, closing his eyes to enjoy the little pecks Newt was pressing against his entire face.

Newt stopped and dove his face into Minho’s neck, and Minho could feel him grin against his skin. “You’re my bloody hero.”

Minho laughed. He ran a hand down Newt’s back and kissed his head, before having to pull Newt out of his stupor. “You’re hurting my back, Newt.”

Newt gasped, clambered off of Minho and sat on the floor. Minho began to get up himself, but Newt grabbed his neck and tugged him closer, kissing him again. Fast and quick but mild and loving. When he pulled back, he was teary-eyed in a way, and wrapped his arms around Minho's neck like a cowboy's lasso. "She still lives at home, doesn't she? She always said she wanted to move back to London when she moved out, I don't have money for the plane, I-"

Minho shushed him so he could get a word in. "It's a US address. Deep breaths, babe, you're turning blue."

Newt let a rush of air out of his lungs, as Minho caught something in the doorway and sent Thomas a smirk. Thomas shut the door behind himself and knelt next to Newt with a kind of hesitant smile. Like there was something tugging in him and it wouldn’t let his mouth stretch the way he wanted it to.

He wrapped his arms around Newt’s waist, and rested his head on his shoulder, quiet but comforted, as Newt gripped onto his fingers and kissed Minho all over his concerned face.

Minho spared him a kiss before pushing Thomas’s head up and giving him a look. He didn’t want to say anything out loud, not wanting to dampen Newt’s mood, but Thomas let out a soft sigh into Newt’s neck and the blond’s face fell into one of sympathy.

”What’s wrong, baby?” Minho asked, discarding discretion now that Newt was already wearing a frown.

Thomas reached for Minho’s hand around Newt’s twiggy frame and sighed again. “Brenda said...Well, she thought the reason I wasn’t asking Teresa to marry me was...because I don’t love the girls as much as I love you, and now I can’t get it out of my head. I’m taking them out for dinner tonight, I- I have to do it then, right?”

Minho frowned. He didn’t really know what to say to that. He felt accused a little bit.

The apartment was quiet, but Newt let go of Thomas’s hands and shifted out of the Newt sandwich the boys had made. He leant back on his palms and looked at Thomas.

”So, what’s the real reason?” He asked, sort of wary like the answer was very important to him. Thomas looked at him for a moment. He was quiet, but Newt waited until he gained the courage to run a hand through his brown, well-kept hair.

”I love Teresa,” Thomas said, final and definite, and the heartache in his eyes said it was true. “I love her with all my heart, I wanna spend the rest of my life with her. I love her.”

He paused. “I’m so scared. Marrying Teresa means having kids, y’know? That’s the way her mother wants it done. And I love kids, don’t get me wrong, I just...I’m so scared.”

Minho reached over to hold his hand, trying not to really be here, but still to be there for Thomas.

Newt held Thomas’s other one and shuffled closer until their knees touched. “Tommy, you’ll make a great dad.”

Thomas exhaled, dropped his head onto Newt’s shoulder. “They said that to my dad too.”

The apartment went quiet, and Minho went cold besides the hand he was using to clutch Thomas’s.

Newt said in a small voice, “Your dad was an addict though. You’re not that at all.”

Minho’s gaze snagged on the half tears in Newt’s eyes. He wiped them away, but Minho still watched him, concerned. Thomas didn’t say anything, though no doubt he’d noticed.

Newt shook his head, wiped his face down with his fingers. “It’s okay, Tommy,” Newt said to Thomas’s hand. “I’ve never really wanted kids.”

They were making a habit of talking in codes in front of Minho. Minho knew a couple of things, yeah, but why was Newt crying? Thomas knew, kissed his shoulder and stayed quiet.

”What are you talking about?” Minho asked. Newt closed his eyes.

”Well, why would you let me anywhere near a kid? I’m exactly what Thomas is scared of becoming as a father. You don’t want that around a baby.”

Thomas clutched tight around him, shaking his head. “You’d be great with a kid, Newt. I’m just scared of your addiction, you know?”

Minho took his hand and stood up. “We can figure something out. Alright? Newt just got great news about his family, and Thomas, you’re not even engaged yet, let alone a father. Let’s just eat and relax.”

Thomas nodded, so Newt wiped his eyes. The pair stood, and Minho brought Thomas into a soft kiss and a kind of whispered assurance that everything would be okay.

Thomas let go of him, and Newt thought he’d gotten off scot-free, without getting the same soft boyfriend kisses. Oh no, no, no.

Newt frowned against his mouth, but Minho gave him a long hug and waited for him to feel better.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This chapter's a bit shorter than usual but ya know how it is. Thanks for reading anyway, I hope you liked it! :)


	29. Champagne

Thomas had imagined this scene a hundred times. Thomas, on one knee on the floor of a French restaurant they could not afford to be in, holding out her grandmother’s ring. Teresa, nodding furiously and weeping as though this was the best day of her life. Brenda grinning like a maniac and crying. Everyone in the restaurant applauding the group. Girlfriends eyeing boyfriends, waiters handing out discounts, congratulations from strangers.

Thomas had not imagined what really happened, himself, teary-eyed, kneeling on the ground in a diner like in 50s movies, Teresa sort of staring at him without answering, Brenda sitting at the table staring at her like she was crazy. People staring. People cringing.

The first thing Teresa said was, “Why are you crying?”

Thomas sniffed. “I just, I love you, alright? So, so much.”

He didn’t know why he was crying, but he knew that was the answer. What Brenda said had really gotten to him. It ached in him that there could be even an ounce of suspicion that he cared more about anyone than these girls. He adored them, held them so, so tight in his heart. He adored the boys too, and they were somewhere deep in his chest too. The idea that they were competing with each other was so ridiculous it hurt.

Brenda spoke next. “Teresa. Say yes.”

Teresa swallowed, cleared her throat, but even after all that, she still couldn’t say the word.

Thomas sniffed again and stood up, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting hug. “You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready.”

To think that Thomas’s nerves about being a father were the only nerves about getting married was offensive to Teresa. She grew up with shitty parents too, she was terrified she’d turn out like her mother. Not to mention she was 25, and once she was married, she’d have to give her body up to have a baby. Even if she wasn’t a stripper, and didn’t rely on her body for income, that was a scary endeavour.

Teresa hugged him back, then nodded against him, as a yes. Thomas was tearing up again, as he pulled back to put the ring on her finger.

The diner began to applaud. Teresa was crying, but it wasn’t really happy crying. They were scared, both of them. This meant their future belonged to Teresa’s mother.

It was always the plan to get married, but now that it was a reality, Thomas couldn’t help feeling the sense that this was giving up. They could run away together, they could find a way to live their own lives, they could rebel, protest, riot against what Teresa’s parents were forcing onto her.

This was giving in. Handing it all over to them. Showing them they would do what they were told.

Thomas paid so the trio could leave the diner, once Brenda had taken a billion pictures that they’d send to Mrs Agnes. She wouldn’t like that they got engaged in a diner. She would call Thomas a cheapskate. But at least they were engaged.

Thomas stopped outside the car and waited for the girls to catch up, because Brenda had wanted to see the ring.

Teresa didn’t make any move to get in the car, she just walked into Thomas’s arms and held him tight.

Thomas forced a smile. “Look, we don’t have to do anything until you’re ready. And if you’re mom doesn’t like it, screw her.”

They said that a lot. It helped a little, to pretend they weren’t letting her control their lives.

Teresa kissed his shoulder, melancholy.

Brenda took a photo. She was really getting on Thomas’s nerves. He looked up, shaking his head, “Bren, not now.”

”Yes now,” Brenda replied. “It finally happened. Stop being all sad, you’re bringing me down.”

”Why are you so happy?” Teresa asked, wiping her face. It was a bit of a stupid question.

”What, why am I happy we’re a step closer to moving into that house together?” Brenda replied with a scoff. Teresa rolled her eyes, now wasn’t the time. Right now they needed to be sad and quiet and love each other.

Brenda didn’t see it. To her they were getting married for the house and they would deal with the rest later. Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy. Thomas understood why Brenda was so desperate. He knew how badly she’d wanted this. See, because once Teresa was ‘married’, her mother would let the newly-weds move into a house downtown that was left in a great grandmother’s will. It was big enough for the two of them, and if they only had one kid, Brenda. Even then, Brenda had already established herself to Teresa’s mom as Teresa’s nanny friend, Brenda. And Minho was known as Thomas’s best friend since school. Ben even played a part in this elaborate scheme, occasionally spotted out eating meals with the group or bowling or just hanging out, being Brenda’s boyfriend.

Thomas would have really liked for life to have been simple, but he loved Teresa, and he knew how horrible it was to be alienated from his family because of his sexual orientation. So they played this charade.

The house was big enough for more than those three, too. Three bedrooms, four bathrooms. It was perfect if Teresa’s mother wasn’t expecting to be called over every weekend.

Thomas suggested that they all move in, but everyone agreed that they would not stand to have Ben's episode of Hoarders filmed in their house, so Minho said Thomas could move in with the girls and Minho and Ben would live in the apartment. Thomas hadn't thought where Newt would choose to stay until earlier when he'd first heard about the house. It was a wonder he didn't ask any questions, really. Thomas would want to know what 'the house' meant immediately. Secretly, Thomas hoped Newt would come to live with him and the girls, but there was something in him that didn't want to ask. Having Newt live with Thomas's hypothetical child was an idea that made his heart jump a little bit. He loved Newt and trusted him to be responsible and smart around a kid, but Thomas's worst nightmare was Newt coming home drunk or high one night. Not only for a baby's sake but for the girls' too. Seeing someone in that kind of state, a loved one, was God awful.

Thomas barely made it through that week. Newt might be younger and weaker than him but the fear that had been hammered into his heart since he was born would never wear off.

And the worst part was loving him. Sitting by his bedside, watching lashes of sweat soak the sheets, hearing him scream names Thomas didn't know, and swear words that made him flinch, seeing him writhe like there was a priest in the room expelling some sort of demon out of his body, watching him go from a desperate boy to a deadly beast in seconds...and wanting to hold him still. Kissing his head when he couldn't make any movement but shivers, and feeling so much love and hurt and pain and fear. Thomas could never allow for his family to have to bear witness to that, and as long as Newt lived with them, there would always be that possibility.

Brenda took another photo and snapped Thomas out of it. His mouth fell to a frown. "Brenda, I mean it.”

”This is a happy occasion,” Brenda replied. “You guys are engaged. You’re going to get married. We get to move in together. We love each other, Tom, and now we get to spend our lives proving it.”

Thomas let out a sigh, brought her into his arms. “Brenda, we’re going to get married, move into the house, then we’re going to live at the mercy of Mrs Agnes and Teresa’s going to be forced into motherhood. I can’t wait to live with you but c’mon, this is a horrible situation.”

Brenda rolled her eyes, but it seemed that she recognised that her being an asshole about it wasn't helping, so she climbed into the backseat of the car.

The door slammed, and Thomas brought his gaze up to Teresa's face. She didn't look at him, kept her eyes on his scuffed up shoes, which admittedly were the tidiest he had. He had put some effort into the proposal.

"I didn't think it would be like this," Teresa murmured. "It feels so real now, I guess."

Thomas looked at the ground. "I had to ask you. Everyone's been waiting long enough, I-"

Teresa pushed her hair out of her face, interrupting, "No, no, Tom, this had to happen eventually, I just...doesn't it feel a little like we don't have a choice anymore?"

It was true. It was horrible, and it was true. He was 25, Teresa was 25, they weren't ready to be married and have kids, but they didn't have a choice. By getting engaged, they showed everyone they were willing to be pushed around.

"If you did have a choice," Thomas asked, "What would you choose?"

Teresa's mouth made a twinge of a smile and Thomas couldn't help but grin at her. Maybe they would choose this after all.

Teresa kissed him before she climbed into the car, still smiling a little, and Thomas circled the car to get into the driver's seat. Brenda, from the back, staring at her phone, said with a distracted tone, "I posted the pictures. Now what?"

"We wait, I guess," Teresa replied with a sigh. "Mom'll see it sooner or later."

Thomas started up the car, pulled out of the parking lot. Teresa cut in after a moment that she wanted to stop at a grocery store - they'd get some champagne and celebrate in the apartment. Thomas was hesitant, he'd rather just go straight to bed, but Teresa insisted, so he stopped at the local and picked up some cigs for Newt while he was at it - he'd given Brenda his last one in the car on the way home.

He sat in the car, buckled up, and sat for a moment while Teresa showed him on his phone, a text from her mom saying she was coming to stay tomorrow and they could get a start on wedding planning. Thomas felt sick at the idea. Not because planning his own wedding wasn't one of the most exciting things he'd get to do since signing the lease on the apartment with Minho, he was dead excited to do that. But Teresa's mother was hellish. And damn, he and Brenda would have to switch apartments for God knows how long, and Thomas was still honeymooning it with his new hot blond. Whatever. They had to. Plus, it might be exciting to get to visit Minho's father's shop again to try on a tux. Oh! And they could get one fitted for Newt, too! And he'd get to see Teresa dressed in white, looking gorgeous as ever- suddenly this wedding sounded fabulous.

"...so make sure you sign those papers with Minho tomorrow morning before she gets here."

Thomas hadn't been listening. "Papers?" He asked, surprisingly casual, although he had a feeling it was a little more serious than that. Something in the back of his head knew what Teresa meant but he couldn't bring it to the front of his brain.

"Marital papers, Tom," Brenda called from the back, swinging an arm over Thomas's shoulder from the backseat. "You can't do it while mom's here, might as well get it done before rather than after."

Oh. Oh yeah. Thomas held Brenda's hand as Teresa opened a box of chocolates she bought for herself. "Actually, I think I'm going with Newt to meet his parents tomorrow morning."

Teresa looked up, mouth full of truffle, and her eyebrows in her hairline. Brenda stole a chocolate while Thomas's new fiance was humming to him, a sound meaning "Really? That's great!" Thomas giggled at her, fiddled a 'Strawberry Swirl' out of its spot in the box. "Maybe we can do it on the way back? Unless things go badly, obviously."

"Are you expecting them to?" Teresa asked, slapping Brenda's hand as she reached for another sweet, and shut the lid on the box, although she did grab one for herself before fully shutting it. Thomas shrugged, letting out a soft sigh.

"I mean, when it's Newt, you can't help but imagine the worst-case scenario," he said, immediately regretting it because it sounded so mean. It was true, though. Newt always worried he was the problem, but he wasn't, it was everything around him that was. Alby was abusive towards him, he was addicted to drugs, his family hadn't spoken to him for however long. It wasn't necessarily all his fault. It was hard to be optimistic around the guy who never caught a break.

Teresa nodded quietly. She understood, but she didn't like Thomas's wording either, evident by the way she opened her mouth to say something, then shrugged it off to say, "Any requests for the wedding?" instead. Thomas frowned. "I don't get a say in the organising?"

"Not with my mother, no." Teresa was laughing, and Thomas smiled at her.

"One request," he said. "You convince your mother to let me have three best men."

Teresa laughed again, shaking her head, "She will never, ever agree to that. You're just going to have to pick one."

"I can't do that," Thomas replied, as Brenda leant over.

"Why don't you ask Ben?" She suggested. "He's the only one truly impartial here. Not to mention, he will organise one hell of a bachelor party."

Thomas cringed at the thought. He went to Minho's surprise party for his 23rd, that was enough awful to last a lifetime. Still, Brenda was right, he counted for something. Maybe if he couldn't think of anyone else, he'd give Ben a shot.

He was about to open his mouth to say all this when he felt a vibration from his back pocket, just as the girls' phone's pinged and blooped in unison. Thomas smirked as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. "That'll be the boys wishing us congratulations."

Teresa grinned at him as he turned his phone the right way up and checked his messages.

"Oh, it's from Newt," he said before he could read it. He frowned when he could.

**Please come home. Help me.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back with another Kinda Short But Not As Short As The Other One But Also A Little Shorter Than Usual Anyway chapter! Hope you liked this one, I know the bit at the end is all ooooh wonder what's going on so I'll try not to take too long posting the next couple of chapters.  
> I made a Tumblr a while ago so if ya wanna check that out it's @sarcasm-and-misery, I might start posting on there when I update this so if you wanna follow me on that, that'd be cool. Also it's a pretty good place to ask questions or just contact me in general on a less formal platform so y'know.  
> Anyway, hope you liked this chapter, hope you'll like the next one!  
> Leave love :)


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